


Die Hard

by DewdropSunlight



Series: Old Habits Die Hard [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV), teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Cliff hangers, Druegars, F/F, F/M, Kiyohime - Freeform, M/M, Multi, Sequel, Some Flashbacks, Stiles Has Nightmares, Stiles has the Spark, Supernatural Creatures, Supernatural Eclipse, Wendigo, japanese myth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-24 22:11:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 50,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3786124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DewdropSunlight/pseuds/DewdropSunlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Sequel to Old Habits) Back from Hawaii, Stiles is stronger than ever. However, Beacon Hills is thrown into a supernatural mess with a coming eclipse along with a tale of old power.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Compared to California, Hawaii’s weather was amazing, at least according to him and his dad. Also, to highlight even more, they were closer to the beach than they’ve ever been, which meant they could go swimming at any time, besides dusk, that is.

 

About two weeks into the well-deserved vacation, his dad announced that he was heading back, as he “had a duty to uphold”. Although a little upset his dad couldn’t stay longer, he was equally glad that he became scot-free of all Beacon Hills responsibilities, no matter how terrible that sounded.

 

Danny’s Aunt, Maddie as she insisted, had absolutely no problem with Stiles spending the rest of the summer with her. She admitted that it was nice to have someone besides her and her husband in the house, and she went as far as convincing the local music shop owner to give Stiles a part-time job that wasn’t being offered.

 

After he started working at the music shop job, Stiles had an easier time relaxing and opening up to the inhabitants. Eventually he joined a well-established friend group and they, mostly Keanu, taught him how to surf. At first he denied all aspects of learning due to his insane lack of balance and the need of a certain level of concentration.  But after a day of watching the others have fun, and getting bored of cheering them on by himself, he gave in. Keanu started him out on land by laying down a board and showed him where to position his feet. Once he figured that out, Keanu’s girlfriend, Akela, helped him with balance by setting up a fallen log and telling him to walk across it. At some point she, the other two guys, Mason and Brad, and the other girl, Haukea, started moving the log back and forth gently so he could get used to being under something that’s moving.

 

The first time Stiles got out onto the Pacific Ocean, he completely wiped out, before he even stood up. By the end of that day though, he was able to stand up for a few minutes. In celebration, the group went cliff diving, which Stiles will never forget.

 

When he had gotten home that night, his cheeks hurt, and Maddie commented that he seemed so much happier than he had been when he had arrived and she was extremely glad. Stiles had nodded and agreed, because for the first time in a while, he truly was relaxed. There was nothing to worry about, nothing to stress about, nothing to anticipate. Nightmares were increasingly rare, and sleep became easier.

 

Now countless amounts of footsteps passed, some in a hurry and others taking their time. Among those echoed his own footsteps which came to a sudden halt, as if another step wasn’t physically possible. Stiles breathed in deeply, smiling wildly at the small group of people just a few feet in front of him.

 

And then his feet unfroze, and he ran, dropping his bag just before stopping right in front of them.

 

“Hey, Dad…”

 

“Son.” With a wide grin, his father hugged him, nearly suffocating him with a tight squeeze. Next up was Scott, who knocked the two of them on the ground with his enthusiasm. Laughing, Stiles patted Scott on the back. “Scotty, my man, let me up, you great big lug.” Smiling, Scott jumped off of him and pulled Stilesup after him. “Dude, you’re so tan.”

 

Stiles brushed off the back of his pants from any potentially embarrassing dirt marks. “Hey, Lydia.” The strawberry blonde lightly smiled at him before rushing into his arms. With a small ‘oof’ sound, Stiles wrapped his arms around her. “I missed you, too,” he whispered into her ear before pulling away.

 

Letting out a sigh, Stiles let tension run out of his shoulders. “So...curly fries for lunch?” he questioned with hope shining in his eyes, causing his dad to burst into laughter.

 

“How’d I know? Come on.” His dad motioned with his head, grabbing one of Stiles’s suitcase. “I have a table reserved at ‘Yours Truly’. And you guys can come, too.” Scott whooped and flung an arm across Stiles’s shoulders, who just laughed.

 

“Curly fries, here I come!” he said gleefully, definitely ready for his all-time favorite food.

 

“I call shotgun!” Lydia claimed, or more like demanded, which got another set of laughs going.

 

“I get handgun!” Stiles imitated her the best he could, which got him a punch in his shoulder.

 

* * *

 

 

After a very lengthy lunch, drawn out from Stiles catching up and sharing stories, Lydia kissed him on the cheek and left, blushing profusely after saying she had promised Jackson she would sleep over since his parents weren't home. Scott volunteered to help him unpack, but said that he was later meeting up with Kira, since they were going to try dinner with her parents again after it had epically failed the first time. Happily, Stiles agreed and said that having someone to be a servant wouldn’t be bad, even if it was only for a short time. This resulted in yet another punch to his shoulder.

 

* * *

 

 

They ended up doing very little unpacking. The two of them got distracted by the video games neither had been able to play together for three months. At some point amidst their yelling, Stiles’s dad came in and told them to settle down because the neighbors had called and complained. A few minutes after that, Scott had received a text and bowed out with the promise that he’d be back tomorrow and just the two of them wouldl hang out.

 

After he finally turned off his Xbox, Stiles set up some music and actually started to put his things away. When he was a third of the way through though, his stomach grumbled and, glancing at the time, he decided it was definitely time for dinner.

 

Laughing, Stiles closed the refrigerator door that he’d opened upon sliding into the kitchen. “Forget I was home?” His dad, looking a little shocked, turned around and pointed at the now-closed door.

 

“I-” A grimace or realization came to his face, and he lowered his finger. “Oops?”

 

“Don’t worry. I’ll go out and get something for me, and I’ll stop by the store after school Monday for actual food. No more take-out!” Stiles teased, grabbing the keys off the hook. “I’ll be right back." He salted and then sing-songed his way out of the house.

 

Stiles turned on the radio and started humming along as soon as his jeep was started. Once on the road, he took a left, and then a right before pulling into the gas station. By then, he was singing loudly along with the recent pop song.

 

Shutting off the engine also killed his singing, so Stiles mouthed the rest of the words to the song. Out of the corner of his eye though, pausing his lip movement, a jet black camaro stood out. How could he have not noticed that before he parked?

 

He ignored the obvious foreshadowing, scoffing at the chances, and practically skipped inside, continuing to hum the rest of the song. He didn’t look around, not wanting to see if he was there, and he would’ve greeted the cashier but he didn’t recognize the guy. So, pacing himself, Stiles grabbed a basket and started in the snacks area, going straight for some beef jerky. Stiles became absorbed in selecting various foods and by the time he returned to the front again, Stiles was carrying a 12-pack of Mountain Dew and his basket was half-full.

 

Starting to hum another song, Stiles tapped his foot to the supposed beat while he waited in line. The person who managed to get in front of him set his stuff down in a hesitant manner, and Stiles would normally be curious but he couldn’t care less since he had successfully managed to not bump into Derek.

 

He couldn’t have thought that soon enough as the man in front of him turned around to reveal, well...Stiles refrained from having a coughing fit.

 

Derek hadn’t changed much. He still had his usual stubble and his jaw-line was as well-defined and perfect as always. His green eyes were still full of the same vibrant life as when Stiles had left. Maybe the only thing that had changed was his clothing, which was definitely not his trademark leather, but instead a pair of sweatpants and a wife-beater. Before Stiles could even think of talking, Derek was turning back to get his receipt.

 

Tracing Derek’s every move, Stiles watched as the man walked away. Yet just before he closed the grocery store door, Derek sent a soft, knowing smile Stile’s way, as if he had known Stiles was watching him. Flushing, Stiles set his items on the store counter and paid for everything as quickly as he could. As he stepped outside, Stiles noticed the Camaro was already gone, and a feeling of relief came over him. Then Stiles walked over to the jeep and just as he started to open the door,  a piece of bright green paper between his windshield wipers caught his attention. Setting down the Mountain Dew and a few of the bags, Stiles reached over and yanked it from its hiding spot. In neat, all capital letters it read,

 

_Welcome home. -D_

 

Stiles, no matter how many times he'd deny it, dropped the bag of beef jerky he had held onto, and just stared. His body became unfrozen after a few minutes and, calmly, he put the note into his jean pockets before he picked up the food. "Stupid sourwolf." Stiles shook his head as he loaded everything into the jeep and started her up. Glancing around the dusk-lit town, Stiles sighed and spread his fingers out of the jeep’s steering wheel. "It's good to be back."

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

It was one hundred percent Lydia’s idea to get brunch the next day, forcing Stiles to get up earlier than he had intended to. Rolling out of his bed lazily, he didn’t manage to catch himself before he hit the floor. Stiles let out a loud groan and dragged his hands up to beside his head before pushing himself over onto his back. He relaxed for a minute for the pain to pass before he slowly got up.

 

“Stiles?” His dad’s voice came from behind his bedroom door.

 

“Yeah?” He grunted out.

 

“Everything okay?”

 

“Just fell off the bed.” In response, his dad just laughed and Stiles heard him walk back downstairs. “Rude.” He scoffed as he slowly walked over to his dresser.  Pulling out a pale red shirt with a pale yellow Iron Man symbol on it, Stiles threw it over his head. Instead of changing into jeans, Stiles decided to keep on his blue plaid PJ pants and wait till after getting a cup of coffee.

 

Hopping down the stairs, taking them two-by-two, and then practically skipping into the kitchen, Stiles took down a mug and poured himself half a cup of black coffee. Setting down the cup, Stiles opened the refrigerator and took out a small bottle of French Vanilla creamer. He poured the little that was left into his mug and threw the empty bottle into the kitchen sink. Taking a sip, he winced. Not enough creamer.

 

“Hey, when are you leaving?” His dad stepped into the room with his own mug of coffee and a bunch of folders tucked underneath his arm.

 

“Probably within the next twenty minutes. Don’t want to show up late.” Stiles leaned his lower back against the counter and crossed his feet.

 

“Alright, sounds good. I work later tonight so…”

 

“I’ll stay at Scott’s tonight. We need catch up time.” Not answering verbally, his dad nodded and walked back from wherever he was before. Glancing at the time on the microwave, Stiles gulped down the rest of his coffee and climbed up the stairs. In Hawaii, he was proud to say he started learning some fashion sense (hanging out regularly with girls does that apparently) and so he grabbed his only pair of black skinny jeans and his red high-top converse. The skinny jeans hugged tight to his legs and he thought they really brought out his shape. (Haukea and Akela agreed when he had come out of the dressing room by whistling and static that he had no choice but to get them.) Smiling, Stiles sat on his bed and struggled to get in his converse on, almost falling off the bed again and flailing a little. After a couple minutes, he finally got both of them on. While skinny jeans show off the body more, they sure are a pain in getting shoes on.

  
  


Taking his watch off his desk, Stiles secured it on his wrist as he also grabbed at his phone.

 

To Scotty-My-Boy:

Hey, sleepover 2night?

 

From Scotty-My-Boy:

Of course! (Ma's @ work tonight 2)

 

To Scotty-MY-BOY:

Awesome :) :) :)

 

Turning off his phone's screen, Stiles tucked it in his back pocket and walked downstairs. "Bye dad! Have fun at work! Eat healthy because I'll know!"  He took the keys off the nearby hook and headed out.

 

“Have fun with Lydia and Scott! Don’t get into trouble because I’ll know!” His father shot back just as Stiles closed the garage door.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"I see you got my text." Lydia said all-to-cheerily when Stiles walked inside ‘Yours Truly’.

 

"Kind of hard to miss it. When did you get your hands on my phone?" Stiles asked incredulously. She just grinned at him before she turned to the waitress directing people to their seats.

 

"Table for two please."

 

"Of course, Ms. Martin." The older woman nodded and grabbed two menus along with silverware. "What would you two like to drink?" Motioning with her hand, the waitress beckoned them to follow her to a small window table.

 

"An iced tea to start me off." Lydia requested as Stiles pulled out the chair for her.

 

"I'll have a chocolate shake please." Stiles politely stated, ignoring Lydia's rolling eyes.

 

"Alright. I'll be right back with those for you." The woman walked away after she finished writing down their drink orders and the second she left, Stiles turned to Lydia.

 

"And I'm changing my text tone back."

 

* * *

 

  
  


“So…” Lydia took a bite of her deli sandwich. “What else happened in Hawaii? Not counting the vague texts we all got from you.” She sent him a look of annoyance, showing her displeasure of being left out. After taking a bite of his waffle, Stiles chewed a little before responding.

 

“Nothing much.” As Lydia started opening her mouth, Stiles quickly continued on. “I’m much better. I’m sleeping better and I feel better.” He admitted at the end.

 

“Good. I’m glad.” Lydia lightly smiled as she spoke softly.

 

“I’m definitely taking you next time. The sunsets were gorgeous and there were a lot of dolphins,  not to mention sea turtles.” Stiles gushed, setting down his fork and reaching over for the maple syrup. “At one point, Karri and I got up really early to see the baby turtles climb towards the ocean.” His voice sounding like an excited child.

 

“Karri?” Raising an eyebrow, Lydia took a sip of her orange juice. Her question got brushed aside with Stiles’s hand.

 

“The daughter of my music shop boss. She was lesbian anyways. Besides,” Stiles cheeks turned red. “I’m with Malia.” With that said, Lydia almost spat out her juice. Stiles missed it though as he stuffed another slice of waffle inside his mouth.

 

“What?” She demanded, shocked at what Stiles just said.

 

“Turns out I’m not one-hundred-percent gay…more bisexual it seems. We started dating a week or so before I came home.”

 

“What about Derek?”

 

“What about him?” Stiles narrowed his eyebrows as his sharp voice snapped out. “He made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with me last time we spoke. And as confusing as the note he put between my windshield wipers, he’s not forgiven.” Finishing up, Stiles angrily chewed at the last bit of his waffle with a scowl on his face.

 

“I’ll ask about that later. More pressing though is how did you meet Malia?” Seeing as Stiles was not up for ‘Derek Discussion’ yet, Lydia switched back to talking about Stiles’s surprise relationship.

 

"I crashed into her at the library before I left."

 

"Literally?" Lydia grinned as she casually asked. Glaring for a second, Stiles nodded.

 

"Anyways," his face resolved to a happy, easygoing expression, "we started hanging out in the library every other day. We traded numbers and started texting. And then last week we agreed to go out." Lydia hummed and returned the smile. Although it was forced from her end, Stiles didn't seem to notice. “Anyways, enough about me! What’s going on with you and Jackie?”

 

“I’d wish you’d stop calling him that.” Frowning, Lydia played at the salad she had ordered as a side. “Jackson is moving back from London, “ Stiles started to groan before being cut off. “and don’t give me that shit. I know you and him haven’t had the best track and at times he’s a complete douchebag, but he’s changed a lot. Last year he even voluntarily helped you.”

 

“I know, I know…” Stiles sighed. “But he’s still a jerk until proven otherwise.”

 

“You should give him a chance this year.” She pointed out.

 

“Fine,” Stiles munched down the last of his waffle, “buth he bether bhave ni-er.” He mumbled with his mouth full, which caused him to receive a disgusted look from Lydia. Swallowing, Stiles restated what he said. “But he better behave nicer.”

 

“Boys…” Lydia hummed as she sighed.

 

“Girls…” Stiles mimicked her, the sigh and everything.

 

* * *

 

 

“Stiles, good to see you!”

  
“You saw me yesterday Scott.” Stiles stuck out his tongue as he, in his own way, pranced through the doorway.

 

“I know, but it felt like forever.” Agreeing with a nod, Stiles walked into the McCall’s kitchen like it was his own.

 

“Chocolate popcorn?” He asked, taking a bottle of Hershey's syrup out of his overnight bag that he had quickly stopped at home to get.

 

“I’ll get the watermelon Sour Patch and Goldfish then.” Scott shot back with a smile. After gathering the snacks and after the kitchen smelt of buttered popcorn, the two of them proceeded up the stairs and onto Scott’s bed to play Call of Duty or one of the other video games neither of them had been able to play together since before Stiles went on vacation.

 

At one point, Stiles threw popcorn at Scott to distract him and at another, Scott pushed Stiles off the bed in order to win Mario Kart.

 

Pausing the game (which they were currently on The Last of Us), Stiles turned his body to face Scott, who was currently giving him huge puppy dog eyes with the question of why shining at him. “Let’s get a tattoo.” A completely shocked look came to Scott’s face and the game was clearly forgotten. “I’m serious!” Stiles defended himself. “Let’s go get one right now. I have money from my music shop job and I really want a tattoo.”

 

“Dude...you hate needles.” Scott’s statement caused Stiles to groan.

 

“I know, but I’ve gotten better man, promise. I’m not passing out like last time.”

 

“Alright then.” Scott grinned enthusiastically. “Let’s do this.”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Slamming the door of his jeep in a non-aggressive manner, Stiles stuffed his hands into his jacket’s pocket and threw a smile at Scott. Walking up to his best friend, Stiles fell in line with Scott’s footsteps. They had purposely parked a block away, unlike last time which got them into a stern talk with Stiles’s dad, despite Scott’s mom already okaying Scott getting a tattoo.

 

“You sure about this?” Scott asked as they crossed the street. Sending him a look, Stiles reached out and opened the door, motioning for Scott to go first.

 

Just like last time, the scent of the shop came in one huge gust, almost knocking Stiles over, before he became used to it, though he could still smell the pigment used. Looking around, Stiles saw a guy getting a back tattoo of a skull, the tattoo artist being the same man who did Scott’s. His thoughts were interrupted by the woman with an arm filled with tattoos and a nose ring come out from the back, drying her hands with a paper towel.

 

“Hi there.” She nodded at them.

 

“Hello.” Scott replied back politely before Stiles could.

 

“ID’s?” Opening his wallet, Stiles took his out and handed it over. After Scott handed his over as well, the woman looked at them and then the ID’s, measuring them up. “Looks good boys.” She hummed, giving them back. “I’m Mrs. Z. That over there, the tattoo artist, is my husband.”

 

“He gave me my last tattoo.” Scott nodded.

 

“Great! So you already know how this works?” Right, cash first and then tattoo. Stiles reached back for his wallet as Scott responded.

 

“I do. My buddy here though, doe-”

 

“Actually,” Stiles coughed, “I got a tattoo in Hawaii.” He talked to Mrs. Z, pointedly not looking at Scott.

 

“Alright then,” She nodded. “Do both of you know what you want?” Hearing them both say yes, Mrs. Z continued. “Awesome, follow me then.” Both of them walked behind her to her own station, which was only a few feet away. “I’ll be right back. I need to tell Becky that she needs to take over for the front if needed.” And then she left.

 

“You what?” Scott wasted no time in turned around and staring at Stiles.

 

“I...uh…” Stiles nervously scratched the back of his neck out of habit. Scott’s mouth dropped open.

 

“No way.” Bashfully, Stiles nodded at Scott’s statement. “Where is it?”

 

“Under my arm.”

 

“What is it?” Scott’s eyes went wide. Rolling his own, Stiles took off his shirt, despite Scott’s eyes going as large as saucers with the action.

 

“I’m not going to need my shirt anyway.” He mentioned as he turned to the side, giving Scott a view of the surprise tattoo. It was about four ‘n a half inches long, stretching across the side of Stiles’s ribcage, and one ‘n a half inches wide. The black outline of the surfboard was made of five names and the inside was decorated with shaded Hawaiian flowers. “So, what do you think?” Stiles hesitantly asked, watching Scott’s reaction.

 

“That’s awesome dude! What are the names? Why a surfboard?”

 

“It’s of the friends I made down there. I didn’t want to forget, you know?” He asked. Scott nodded and moved out to touch it. By instinct Stiles flinched, causing Scott to pause. When nothing was said, Scott lightly trailed his pointer finger on the outline, even doing the loops of the names.

 

“So, how drunk were you?” Scott joked.

 

“Scott!” He exclaimed, moving way and punching Scott’s shoulder. Before Scott could say anything back, Mrs. Z came back out from behind and walked towards them.

 

“You ready, boys?”  Stiles smirked at Scott and nodded.

 

“Bring it.”

 

 

* * *

 

  
  


Scott went first, explaining how he wanted a pawprint on the back of his right shoulder. Refraining from laughing out loud, Stiles bit his lip and just stared knowingly at Scott, to which a scowl was shot his way. Due to it’s size and location, Becky said it’d only be thirty dollars. “It’s pretty easy.” She shrugged as Stiles handed over the money.

 

As the needle was pulled out, Stiles winced a little before motioning to Scott with his head. “I’ll go sit over by the window and wait.” After he walked over and sat, Stiles stretched out his legs and tapped his thumbs together over his stomach. Logically he knew it wouldn’t take long, half an hour at most. But nonetheless, that’s still thirty minutes of just sitting. He could barely stand two.

Grinning with an idea, Stiles pulled his new touch screen phone out of his pocket and quickly tapped in his password. When it came to the home screen, his grin widened as he tapped on ‘Trivia Crack’.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles squirmed in the chair, trying to fall into a comfortable position. Once he did, he gave Mrs. Z a thumbs up. Pointing close to where his hip line meets his pants on his left side, Stiles started talking. “I would like a triskelion.”

 

“Any decoration? Color?”

 

“Nope, just three curls. And black please.” Stiles shook his head.

 

“How large?” Mrs. Z inquired.

 

“About two inches by two inches?” He held up his fingers in rough estimate to the side he wanted.

 

“Alright, you know all the procedures, correct?” Stiles nodded at her question.

 

“Who else would help him?” Pointing at Scott, Mrs. Z laughed for a few seconds before standing up.

 

“Let me just wash my hands again and I’ll be right back.” The second she stood, Scott was at his side.

 

“A triskelion? Isn’t that what Der-?” Scott stopped in mid-sentence, as if afraid that even saying Derek’s name would send Stiles in a downward spiral. Rolling his eyes, he swatted at Scott.

 

“Derek? Yes, he has one on his back. But that’s not why I’m getting this one.” Seeing the question forming in Scott’s eyes, Stiles jumped the gun. “It means past, present, future. I was weak in the past, I’m stronger now, and I’ll be even stronger in the future.” Scott made an ‘oh’ sound and smiled, breaking eye contact only when Mrs. Z was on her way back, to which he moved out of the way.

 

“A triskelion…” Mrs. Z hummed, picking up the tattoo needle. “Let’s do this…”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Waving goodbye to Scott, Stiles put his jeep into first gear to pull out of Scott’s small driveway. Making a left onto Elm Street, Stiles drove down three blocks before stopping at  large field. Turning off the engine, he climbed out of his powder-blue jeep and walked to the closest edge of the field that was outlined with a mixture of vibrant gold, cherry-red, and slate-blue flowers. He pulled out the switchblade he carried everywhere in his pants pocket, Stiles knelt down and grabbed a handful. Lining up the blade to an inch below his grip, he cut away. After all the strands were efficiently free, Stiles stood back up and glanced around. Lightly smiling, he picked a few Queen Anne’s Lace to put with the colorful mixture.

 

Then walking away, he hopped back into his jeep and drove to the end of Elms Street, taking a right on Bradford Lane, to which he continued down and turned onto Kennex Street. Sighing a little, Stiles parked on the side of the street.

 

Getting out once more, he walked up to the graveyard, flowers in hand.

 

His hand itched as a petal fell off one of the flowers he was carrying, lightly brushing his knuckles till it floated to the ground. Taking a breath, Stiles opened up the creaking metal gate to the graveyard. Not bothering to close it behind him, Stiles silently walked past the solemn headstones, pointedly looking away from the newly dug one. Walking twelve rows down, he took a left and continued down to the last headstone. Smiling, he knelt down and set the flowers, which ironically had wolfsbane blooms in it, against the gravestone.

 

“Hey Ma...it’s been a while.” Situating himself to sit cross-legged, Stiles blinked away the mention of tears in his eyes. “I went to Hawaii! Man, the weather was amazing, and you would’ve loved all the children. That, and the sunsets.” Reaching into his pocket, he unlocked his phone. “Here; I even have photos to show you.” Flipping his phone around, he showed the gravestone several pictures of the sun, as well as dolphins and flowers. The next set he went to were of his friends.

 

“The one with the shoulder length hair is Keanu. He and his girl, Akela, who’s standing next to him, taught me how to surf. Who would’ve known I was good at it?” Scrolling to the next picture, it was of Mason jumping off a cliff. “Brad, his boyfriend, pushed him off. That was the third day into vacation. Danny’s aunt is neighbors to Haukea, and somehow convinced her to let me join their group for the their summer evening fun. Totally thankful for that.” Stiles mused.

 

He fell silent for a few minutes, listening to the birds nearby singing their melancholy tunes.

 

“I got two tattoos.” A light laugh tumbled from his lips. “I know you always tried to hide yours from me, and I was good at pretending I didn’t know about them. But I knew.” Stiles said very softly. “You had Dad’s name and my name written on your wrists. You’d always cover them with makeup or have one of the nurses do it. I heard you one time insisting they needed to.”

 

“Anyways, the one tattoo I have is right below my arm on my ribcage. The embassy of the wolf pack in Hawaii did it for me. Kind of like how Deaton is a vet, the woman, Miranda, was a tattoo artist. Scott doesn’t know that the pack there temporarily brought me in. Danny does though, and Lydia figured it out of course. It was great though.” Stiles tilted his head back so it rested on whoevers gravestone was right in front of his moms. “They let me learn about pack dynamics and they were so kind. I actually got to learn a bit more of my spark, which Deaton hasn’t mentioned since that Kanima incident I told you about.”

 

Taking a breath, Stiles continued.

 

“The other tattoo is next to my left hipbone. It’s the three swirls, same as Derek’s back tattoo. Past, present, future; that’s what it means. I’ve done some pretty self destructive behavior in the past Ma…” He admitted, “but I’ve learned and I’m starting to live for now. I mean, there’ll always be triggering past memories but I’m starting to focus on today.”

 

Once it fell silent once more, it stayed that way. Sure, Stiles wanted to talk some more, but he couldn’t find the energy to move the conversation along.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Derek’s loft was in bedlam. After the fight, he had torn up the pillows on the couch, only to fling the entire thing seconds later. He went on a destructive rage throughout the home, knowing he screwed up and Stiles was gone. Blinking away tears of frustrations and agony, Derek marched over to the loft door, slamming it shut behind him and then quickly walking out of the building. In the back of his subconsciousness, there was a feeling of relief that he had no nosy neighbors due to his owning of the building.

 

The second he got to the edge of the forest located behind the building, Derek took off in a run. He didn’t care that he had no shoes on, or that there was a storm brewing on the horizon. Of course his feet stung, and his werewolf senses were being overpowered with the stench of rain, but maybe that’s what he was looking for. Eventually though, the pain faded away and he was just running, not even registering the smell of rain. And he kept running, the breeze slapping against his face, but the warm air of California calmed it a few seconds later.

 

Despite being a werewolf, his lungs began to burn and his stomach clenched up, nearly causing him to double over from surprise. Derek came to a sudden halt, which the stop in momentum caused him to barrel forward. Catching himself before he hit the ground, he just laid there.

 

Staring up at the darkening blue sky, he gazed drowsily at birds flying away. Then, taking a breath, Derek stood up and brushed the leaves off his pants.

 

With an sudden angry shout, he marched up to a huge boulder a few meters away, and punched it with all the force and anger he could muster. Bones cracked and the pain nearly floored him. In fact, he quickly brought his hand to chest and cradled it, ignoring the tears streaming down his face, and fell to his knees.

 

“I deserve this…” Whimpering out, Derek leaned his body until his forehead was resting against the cold, moss-covered stone. His body shook and at some point his shoulders started to ache, but he ignored it.

 

Derek had no clue how long he stayed there, or when he ran out of tears and started dry-crying. But as dusk was falling, what was left of the sky to see, became vibrant with deep rich colors. And he somehow managed, very slowly, to stand. He would’ve fallen again, due to his feet haven fallen asleep, if not for him using the stone to keep himself steady.

 

Just as it started to drizzle, Derek’s senses started coming to, and he gradually started walking back.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Opening the loft door with a sad attempt, Derek lazily walked in. His eyes shot open when he took a huge breath, inhaling Stiles’s smell. Feeling a sudden energy, he marched across the large, vast room and into his own bedroom. Pulling open the drawers that held Stiles’s extra clothes. he began taking them out and just ripping them apart. tossing them somewhere behind him when they were in shreds. He kept continuing in the vicious cycle, one shirt after another. And then, pulling out a pale red hoodie, just broke.

 

And he wept. He pulled the sweater up to his face and cried into it, all his anger and frustration disappearing in an instance.

 

Derek remembered giving the sweater to Stiles a few months after they met. It was a cold night and Stiles, being Stiles, didn’t think to grab some warm clothes when the two of them met up to search for Erica and Boyd. He remembered in exasperation, he had given Stiles the only hoodie he had that would possible fit him. In a small feeling of astonishment, Derek came to the realization that Stiles had this the entire time...and he didn’t even notice Stiles bring it into the loft.

 

That thought just made him cry harder, as if he wasn’t just making up for this time of losing Stiles but every time he had refused to cry in his entire lifetime.

 

A soft, almost inaudible buzzing broke him out of his stupor, causing him to get up and shuffle towards his bedside desk, red hoodie now wrapped on his broken hand. Clumsily, his fingers dashed across the touch screen of his phone and he shakily hit the green answer button. Clearing his throat, Derek brought it up to his ear.

 

“Derek Hale, how dare you.” Lydia snarled into the phone. “I cannot begin to say what I want to say. I just got home from comforting a very broken up Stiles, and now I’m grabbing some some things to head back. But Derek, you are so lucky that I’m not coming over there to tear you a new one. You’ve hurt Stiles and I swear to God if you try talking to him again...if you come within twenty feet of him, I will personally make sure you never have children.” Derek by then, had sat quietly on the edge of his bed, listening to every word she was saying. He knew he had hurt Stiles, and the mantra that he deserved being told it, kept being repeated in his head.

 

“How could you Derek? I thought you would at least treat him right. Especially with what happened with Jennifer! He has always been there for you and you both seem to have this mutual saving-each-other thing going on. Even I’ve lost count over how many times you’ve pushed him out of the way and he’s stood in front of you.”

 

“And then it was always you and him with the unresolved sexual tension. At one point all of us had a bet going on...besides that, I just...I can’t believe you hurt Stiles like this. He knocked on my front door...my front door Derek. When I answered, his eyes were all red from crying and he was on the verge of a panic attack. I can’t believe you!”

 

“Derek? Derek?” Lydia’s voice was softer this time, and was hesitant with worry. Realizing he zoned out, he was about to speak when Lydia spoke again. “I’m coming over.” She said softly before hanging up.

 

Slowly, Derek put down his phone and leaned back on his bed. And now Lydia was on her way to most likely yell at him more.

 

Just lying there, he stared up at the blank ceiling, taking in it’s emptiness. He had no motivation to get up, whether to clean the mess down stairs or to clean the torn up clothing.  

 

About half an hour passed, with him just staying stock still, when the clicking of Lydia’s heels sounded just outside the loft’s doors. Derek waited, listening to her stopping at the sight of the loft’s main room, and hearing her sigh, along with throwing her purse down. Then, heard her walk into the kitchen, as she turned on the water. Letting out a sigh himself, he somehow managed to get up and nonchalantly walked down the stairs, greatly leaning against the rail.

 

“You don’t have to do that.” He quietly said, causing her to jump. When she turned around, her eyebrows were crossed in anger, yet the second Lydia’s eyes landed on him, she immediately stopped whatever she was doing and crossed the room to him. She placed his hands on his shoulders and moved him to the kitchen chair a few feet away. Easily, he went with her, allowing her to drag him with her.

 

“My god, Derek…” She let out a soft gasp, her eyes trailing along his body, narrowing in on the red hoodie and wrapped hand. “What happened?”

 

“I punched a rock.” Derek’s voice remained at the same level of quietness.

 

“You what?” Lydia’s face was sketched with an unbelievable look. “Why isn’t it healing?” Before he could answer, a look of realization crossed her face. “You’re not letting yourself heal…” To show she got it right, Derek nodded. “Derek…” Bringing her hand up, she wiped away his tears, that he hadn’t known what was falling.

 

“He’s gone.” There was a crack in his voice that he couldn’t prevent.

 

“We’ll think of something.” Lydia sighed again, walking over to the sink and turning off the water. “I was going to clean up, but it seems that you need to talk to someone.”

 

“What about going to Stiles’s?” Derek asked, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

 

“As soon as I get your hand wrapped and I make you some coffee, then I’m off.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

This had to go perfectly...it had to. There was no doubt about it, as it was Lydia who came up with the plan in the first place. Nervously, Derek shifted the tie along his neck before double checking that his shoes were tied. It was a rented tux that Lydia had somehow managed to get in time.

It was the day that Stiles and his dad were leaving for Hawaii. Actually, the two’s flight was about to leave in thirty minutes. Fiddling with his tie again, Derek turned on his heel and almost lost his nerve, before turning back around. The flowers in his hand made a ruffling noise, causing his senses to pick up on the pollen, which in turn, caused him to sneeze.

 

Swallowing, Derek continued walking.

 

“Flight to Hawaii, boarding on Deck 13. Flight to Hawaii, boarding on Deck 13.” The second the speaker woman stopped talking, a panic flared through Derek. It wasn’t supposed to be for another thirty minutes. Did the flight get moved up?

 

Picking up his pace, Derek hurried along, passing past people who were also in a hurry. At one point, he had to jump in between two people in order to sneak past. Deck 4...Deck 5...He counted in his head.

 

“Come on...come on…” Derek whispered under his breath. Deck 7….Deck 8…and suddenly there was a crowd. People were yelling and it was difficult to move. It became a standstill, leading to Derek nervously tapping his foot.

 

“Flight to Hawaii, five minutes till boarding closes. Flight to Hawaii, five minutes till boarding closes.”

 

How much time had passed? Derek’s mind was full of worry, and at this point, he started to blatantly push past people.

 

When he got to Deck 13, he saw the team (Lydia, Isaac, Kira, Scott, and Danny) all standing there, waving at Stiles who was just disappearing past the line, following his dad. Watching with wide eyes, Derek saw one of the flight attendants hook a rope across the entrance. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lydia look back and stare at him with an upset, understanding look.

 

It took everything in him to not fall down and start crying again.

 

He didn’t make it.

 

Stiles was gone.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

A dose of cold water startled him from sleep, causing him to shoot right up and start to shiver in the surprisement. Blinking multiple times before widening his eyes, Stiles glanced up to see him father laughing at him.

 

“You’re going to be late for school.” His dad said before setting the now empty bucket on the edge of his bed and walked out of the room. Stiles let out a groan and flipped the blankets off of his legs.

 

“Don’t remind me…” He mumbled out.

 

“Come on, Stiles! Senior year awaits you!” Scowling at the fact that the summer went by so quickly, Stiles stood up and let out a yawn, stretching out his arms as his t-shirt trailed up to show his flat stomach. Bringing one of his hands down, he fluffed out his hair and ran it through a couple of times with his fingers, before heading over to the bathroom.

 

After brushing his teeth and combing his hair, so it stood up in front a little, Stiles quietly walked over to his dresser and grabbed a pair of black skinny jeans that Lydia had insisted he wear, a dark grey shirt, and a blue plaid overshirt. He yanked the pants up, jumping up and down a few times to make sure they were on. Then, tugging the shirt on over his head, Stiles grabbed his backpack and slung it over his shoulder.

 

Taking quick steps down the stairs, he skidded into the kitchen, his father raising an eyebrow over his coffee mug when their eyes connected.

 

“What?”

 

“Black skinny jeans?”

 

“What?” Stiles made a face while kicking his converse out from underneath the kitchen table. “Lydia made me.” He heard a snort of laughter from his father but nothing else was said of the topic. After tying his shoelaces, Stiles stood back up, grabbed the jeep keys off the kitchen hook, and started moving towards the garage door.

 

“Breakfast, Stiles!” Letting out the second groan of protest, Stiles turned around and grabbed a poptart out of the almost empty box on the counter, and, doing another one-eighty, turned again and started heading out.

 

“Bye dad! Love you!” He called out over his shoulder just before closing the garage door and moving over to his jeep. Opening the driver’s door, Stiles flung his backpack onto the passenger seat and started up the engine.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Pulling into the school’s already busy parking lot, Stiles nearly raced to the open parking space that caught his eye, which just so happened to be next to Scott’s lime green dirt bike. Smiling to himself at his impeccable timing, Stiles turned off the engine, and scavenged his backpack for his phone. Upon finding it, he sent a quick text to Scott asking where he and Kira were, only to get a knock on his window, startling him.

 

“Dude…” Stiles whined when he opened the door. “You can’t just do that! You almost gave me a heart attack.” Scott rolled his eyes at Stiles’s dramatics before pulling his best friend into a hug.

 

“Senior year man…”

 

“I know, don’t remind me. Dad woke me up with a bucket of cold water this morning.” Wincing at the memory, Stiles saw Scott laugh a little and punched him in the shoulder.

 

“Dude…”

 

“Now who’s being dramatic? You’re a werewolf, that probably didn’t even hurt.”  In response to Stiles’s statement, Scott stuck out his tongue before standing upright and smiling.

 

“Hey there’s Isaac!” Scott said cheerfully, waving in the direction behind him. Turning on his heel, Stiles smiled when he saw the blonde curls of the youngest of the pack getting off his bike. However, his smiled faded a little when he saw a girl swinging her leg off the bike behind him and taking off a helmet. Instantly, alerts went off in his brain, but Stiles pushed them back because of course, it would be rude to judge someone before he met them.

 

Walking up to them with Scott trailing behind, Stiles pulled Isaac into a hug.

 

“I missed you pup.” He whispered into Isaac’s ear before pulling back and staring at the girl beside him.

 

She was semi-attractive, he shrugged in his head. Slightly better than normal looking, but not someone he would go for or pursue. Her hair fell down a little past her shoulders, held in loose black curls with an ivory highlight in front, and he noticed that her eyes had a purple haze amidst the striking blue.

 

“Nice contacts.” And, ignoring the weird look from Isaac, he held out a hand for her to shake.

 

“You must be Stiles!” She skipped past the handshake and went straight for a hug. Paralyzed, he glanced at Isaac who looked at him with a small flush. Seeming to notice his surprisement, she quickly jumped back. “I’m sorry! I’ve been told I should stop doing that.” She flashed him an embarrassing smile.

 

“And you are?”

 

“Oh!” Her hand flew to her lips. “I totally went straight past that, didn’t I? I’m Victoria, but call me Tori. All my friends do.”

 

“Stiles,” Stiles nodded, “but you already knew that?” He raised a questioning eyebrow.

 

“Isaac’s told me all about you guys.”

 

“I met her in France.” Isaac intercepted. “She saved me from getting my ass kicked.”

 

“You told the guy his mother was a hamster.” Tori did a tee-hee laugh, which instantly raised a red flag in Stiles’s book, but he kept his mouth shut.

 

“I thought I was asking for cheese!” Stiles bursted into laughter at Isaac’s defense.   
  


“Dude,” he put a hand on Isaac’s shoulder in order to steady himself, “that’s not even close! Who taught you?”

 

“Allison.” Isaac mumbled hesitantly.

 

“She really played you man.” Stiles continued to laugh and after a minute, Isaac pushed him away, causing him to fall down.

 

“Hey!” Another voice joined in the discussion, growling and a small snarl coming after the shout. Quickly standing up and waving his arms around, he saw Malia coming over, her eyes shining blue and her claws just starting to protrude.

 

“Malia!” He literally ran over to her, and blocked off her sight of Isaac. “It’s okay, I’m okay. We were just playing around. See?” Stiles held out his arms so she could check for any scratches. “I’m totally fine. Now put the glowing eyes away and the claws before someone sees.” Glancing around, he felt a huge feeling of relief come over him when Stiles saw Isaac had distracted...Victoria. The name felt weird, even if he only did say it in his mind. But he brushed it off. He only feels like that because she’s new.

 

Turning back to Malia, he grinned. “Want to go on a date tonight? I can pick you up at seven?” Malia in turn, looked at him confused.

 

“Date? Sure, sounds good.”

 

“Great, now let’s get to class.” Stiles swiveled his head again to look at the rest of the group. Chills went down his back when he saw Tori staring him down while the others laughed next to her. Narrowing his eyebrows for a split second, he looked away and walked with Malia to the school’s front doors, holding hands with her.

 

* * *

 

 

It had been an hour-long drive filled with smiles and laughter, and accompanied by whatever music was on the radio. A twinge of uncomfortableness had, at one moment, hit Stiles but it soon had fallen into his subconsciousness after he pushed it away.

 

“It’s Noodles & Company.” Malia smiled when she felt the car take a turn into the parking lot. “I absolutely love their mac-n-cheese!” She gushed, causing Stiles to laugh.

 

“Trust me, I know.” After parking, and getting out of his door to move over to the other side of his jeep to open Malia’s, they walked inside hand-in-hand, grinning away. Then, soon after placing the order, Malia pulled him over to a window seat, giving them the perfect view of a setting sun through the adjacent treeline.

 

“So…”  Malia  trailed off, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

 

“First date in person.” Stiles nodded, a soft smile appearing on his face and staying there.

 

"I'm nervous." She blurted out, with an anxious laugh after. "I mean, we always did Skype movie dates and now I can hold your hand and give you hugs, and do all this with. It's so-"

 

"Different?" He finished her sentence. "I agree but I like this so much better. I like being able to touch you and hold you. It feels great."

 

A small cough interrupted them as a highschooler (looked like an older sophomore) handed them their food dishes, as well as a side of bread. "Is that all?" She asked, tucking the tray between her elbow and high waist, and moving the bangs out of her fast with an upward blow.

 

"That's all for now. Thank you." Stiles smiled at her, causing a blush to appear on the sophomores fast which, in turn, caused her to spin on her converse and walk away.

 

"Well!" He exclaimed, looking down at his delicious Asian stir-fry and then back up at Malia. "Dig in!"

 

Just before he took a bite though, his entire back pocket vibrated...several times. Ignoring it, Stiles continued to focus on enjoying his time with his...girlfriend. Because that's what she was, wasn't she?

 

He looked up after taking a huge bit of his noodles only to find her staring at him "Are you going to get that?" She bluntly asked, nodded towards his jeans.

 

"I like to ignore a problem till it goes away to be honest."

 

"It doesn't seem to be going away." Malia pointed out as his pocket vibrated again.

 

"It will soon. Besides, I'm on a date with you." In response she hummed, which Stiles took to mean that she was pleased that he wanted to pay attention to her. Instead though, she set down her silverware and reached down under the table, only to bring her own home up a few seconds later.

 

"Well whoever it is, now they're texting me." She pointed out, her fingers gliding across the screen to unlock it. "It's Scott. Says there's a pack meeting."

 

"What?" Stiles mouth dropped. Since when were there pack meetings? Not believing it,(not that he thought Malia was lying to him), he took his phone phone out and unlocked it.

 

Sure enough his message box was imploded from messages from Scott all saying there was a meeting at the loft and everyone was required to come.

 

Glancing back up at Malia, she had already stood up and was calling the waitress over.

 

When the same girl who delivered their food came back up in a scurry, she looked distraught. "Is something wrong with the food? We can mostly likely make you guys more on the house and-" Stiles held up a hand to pause her fast chatter.

 

"Nope, just need to be somewhere. Can we have two to-go bags?"

 

"Of course! Be right back!"

 

Holding out his arm to Malia, she tucked her hand in from underneath and gripped onto him.

 

"Let's go then." He said, not bothering to look back and acknowledge her.

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles threw open the loft door without a second thought. And a rush of bewilderment and nostalgia, came over him, causing him to lose his breath for a second. Memories came back, of laughter and smiles and of inside jokes, but he repressed them, not wanting to dwell on what used to be, but instead focus on the change before him.

 

There were two new couches, side-by-side, that actually looked comfortable. A TV had been added, along with several lights which lit up even the darkest of corners in the room, and casted shadows everywhere. In the back corner farthest from the door, and right next to the winding staircase, there was a brand new wood desk, which had a laptop resting upon it as well as a monitor screen.

 

Everything had Lydia written all over it, but at the same time, everything seemed so...Derek. And despite the room not being filled up with furniture or knick-knacks and whatnot, everything seemed at perfectly placed.

 

“Stiles!” Scott’s voice broke him from his reverie. Shaking his head, he looked at the group, surprised that Malia had already sat down next to Danny, who in turn was sitting next to Isaac and a new guy, that Stiles guessed was Liam.

 

The only seat that was available was the one next to Lydia. Gladly, Stiles crossed the room and sat down on one of the two new couches. “Alright guys, why are we here?”

 

“Not yet,” Lydia shook her head, “we’re still waiting on someone.” The question of who came to mind as Stiles’s eyes glazed over the pack. Kira and Scott were on the loveseat. Isaac, Danny, Malia, and (supposedly) Liam were all sitting on one of the new couches. Lydia and him were on the other couch… Stiles widened his eyes at the slight possibility of who could be missing.

 

Footsteps rang out as the other person came jogging down the winding staircase. “Sorry guys, heard you come in. Was in the shower.” Stiles’s eyes narrowed. Derek was shirtless, and he was drying his hair off with a white towel. His light grey sweatpants clung to him and were curled up at his hips, and of course, he was walking over to where Stiles and Lydia were currently sitting.

 

With an oof, he sat down next to Stiles and leaned against the couches arm.

 

“Great!” Scott called out. “Well, maybe not great.” A frown appeared on Scott’s face, and immediately everyone’s side conversations came to a pause. “We might have trouble. Do you guys remember Mr. Barnes?”

 

“The mailman?” Isaac threw the question out.

 

“He was murdered this morning. The news just got out.” Lydia interrupted in a flat voice before Scott could confirm anything. “There was a snake scale found underneath his fingernails which has the police puzzled because he didn’t own any snakes.”

 

“He was killed by snake venom.” Stiles jumped to the conclusion, voicing it out, ignoring the burning feeling of Derek's eyes. Due to the swivel of Lydia’s head, he definitely guessed right.

 

“Alright, so how is that supernatural?” It was Liam’s turn to ask now.

 

"That's what we need to find out. He doesn't own snakes and there's no snake owners on his route. Literally everyone liked him." Scott said, putting his arm around Kira and bringing her closer to him. "Danny, is there some way you can find where he'd visited the entire day and access any of the street security cameras?"

 

"Are you exploiting me?" Danny gave out a fake gasp, and clutched at his chest before giving a shrug and letting his hands drop back into his lap. "Fine by me, but Derek needs to take off his shirt." Stiles's both bristled and tensed when Danny shot a wink Derek's way. And then was utterly shocked and, somewhat grossed out, when Derek returned the banter with wink.

 

"Anything for you."

 

Clenching his jaw, Stiles sat further into the couch, moving closer to Lydia. He was not jealous. Why would he be? He's completely over the pompous prat who completely destroyed his heart at the beginning of summer. "Alright, so now what?" He spoke, loudly and even he knew his voice sounded a tad off, but no one brought it up or called him out on it. Even Malia seemed unfazed.

 

There was a moment of silence accompanied by a few noises of shuffling clothes scratching the couches surfaces. In the end, it was Scott that spoke up.

 

"Now we wait."

 


	6. Chapter 6

It had been a week since the mailman was murdered. There was a complete standstill happening at the police station and everyone was confused about the killing. And Stiles was going out of his mind. Basically, no one was getting anywhere.

 

Pacing in his room, Stiles turned around several times before throwing his hands up. “This just doesn’t make any sense!” He groaned, tossing the pen he stuck behind his ear at his desk, missing drastically, and having it fly out the open window. He stared at it for a moment in shock, before sighing. It had been like this since he got home from school two hours ago.

 

He stayed still for another couple of minutes, unsure as what to do. His father was currently on patrol, and won’t be home till late. Scott and Kira were together, and Lydia, Isaac, and Malia were studying together. He didn’t want to know what Derek was doing, Isaac was nowhere to be found, and Liam was with his friend Mason.

 

Which left Danny.

 

Suddenly, an idea came to him and Stiles started to grin. Quickly grabbing the keys to his jeep along with his phone, he started jogging down the stairs, trying to multitask by sending a text to Danny.

 

To: D-Dog

Meet me @ dumpster near PD. Hide ur car well. Also, bring a flash dr. We’re gonna need it.

 

Grinning even wider, Stiles closed the front door behind him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I hate you, Stiles…” Danny mumbled under his breath as he was handed a key. Stiles clapped him on the back.

 

“No you don’t. Otherwise you wouldn’t be doing this.” He grinned as Danny turned the key into the door handle, successfully unlocking it with a small click. “And we’re in. I’ll keep lookout.” Stiles motioned for Danny to hurry inside. “The password is: not-the-mama. All lowercase, no punctuation at all.” Hurriedly, they moved to the other side of the desk.

 

“Does your dad know you know his passwords?”

 

“Of course. He knows most of mine.” Stiles said, crouching down near the door in order to be able to peek out.

 

The room fell silent to only the sounds of keyboard tapping.

 

“So…” Stiles nervously tapped on his knee, scanning outside the doors for any signs of people coming in. “You and Derek…” He trailed off, unsure as to where he was going with that. A snort came from next to him.

 

“What about it?”

 

“Nothing!” Stiles turned his head, speaking loudly, getting a glare from Danny. “Nothing at all.” Lowering his voice, he stared at Danny for a second. A moment passed, and he just had to ask. “Are you guys...dating or what-not?” Another small laugh happened.

 

“He’s not really my type.”

 

“But the flirting…” Stiles started to protest.

 

“Listen,” Danny dropped his hands from the keyboard, “do you want me to get a copy of this security footage or would you rather keep asking me questions that could slow us down and get us caught?” Stiles opened his mouth to respond, but Danny shook his head and turned back towards the laptop. Shutting his mouth, Stiles sighed before drumming his fingers again.

 

A few minutes later, Danny made a quiet joyful shout, grabbing the flashdrive and quickly logging off. “Okay, let’s go.”

 

“We can’t.” Hissing out, Stiles narrowed his eyebrows at the woman standing right outside the door. He didn’t recognize her as one of the new officers, but she definitely wasn’t one of the ones that have been around for so long. But she was close enough that if they tried to escape out the side exit door, she would notice and call the cops, literally.

“What?” Danny hissed back. “Stiles, I can’t get caught for this! You know that!”

 

“And we’re not going to get caught Danny. I’ve told you that.” Stiles jerked his head to stare at Danny. “I promise that we’re not going to be found out. I have all the schedules memorized, and the only person who should be here is Mrs. Phillips, and she plays pac-man half the time.”

 

“Then why are we still here?”

 

“There was a woman-” Maneuvering his body, Stiles saw that the woman had disappeared. Gone. “Not anymore. Let’s go.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Meanwhile…

 

A black Camaro screeched down the street, the tires squeaking on the asphalt. It came to a sudden stop when it pulled in front of a small building.

The building itself appeared to be made of concrete. Two windows decorated the outside of it and a simple glass door with an engraving that read off the office hours or the weekdays as well as the engraving “Beacon Hills Animal Clinic”. A sign above the door said something along the lines of a veterinary clinic, and a small carpet was right in front with the word “Welcome” scrawled into it.

 

Getting out of the car, Derek closed the driver’s door with one hand, taking his sunglasses off with the other. On the passenger side, Isaac was getting out. The two looked at each other before nodding, and continuing to the door, Isaac falling behind Derek.

 

A bell rang, signalling their entrance, as they opened the door. Shortly after, a man with no hair, and the beginning of a goatee and mustache walked out. He was wearing a long white labcoat with a dark blue t-shirt underneath. “Hi Derek.”

 

“Deaton.” Derek nodded at the man.

 

“You’re here about the murder last week, aren’t you?”

 

“Do you have any idea about it Deaton?” Derek softened his voice. “Have you ever heard of such a thing happening?”

 

“No.” There was a slight hesitancy in the vet’s voice, causing a low growl to come from Isaac.

 

“You hesitated. What do you know?” Isaac demanded, putting his foot forward to move towards Deaton, only to be stopped by Derek’s arm.

 

“Nothing.” Deaton narrowed his eyes. “However, I have my contacts that I can always ask.” The vet turned his back on them, and picked up a scalpel from the nearby operating table, as well as some sort of cleaning material. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have to get going soon. I have a surgery scheduled for tomorrow morning, and I prefer to get sleep.”

 

He began to argue that it was only half past four in the afternoon, but one look at Deaton’s impassive face told Derek that he wasn’t getting any more information tonight. Growling to himself, he nodded. “Let’s go, Isaac. We have to get to the loft in time anyway.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Once again, the pack was all gathered in the loft, having decided to meet every other night until something came up.

 

“We got the security tape from across the street.” Danny declared right away, as soon as everyone was gathered. “It doesn’t show much. There’s a small flicker of reflector light from a passing car an hour before the guy was murdered, but that’s it. I also took the liberties of getting the store footage, where he was an hour or two before he died, but I didn’t see anything too strange. An employee helped him carry a TV out. Nothing too strange.” He shrugged his shoulders.

 

“What about the car?” Malia spoke up.

 

“It was his. I ran the license plate too.”

 

“Darn.” Malia said, pretzeling her arms and tucking them inward. Suddenly it got quiet, and eyes faced the door.

 

“Jackson?” Lydia paused in her words, and stared shockingly behind Stiles with wide eyes. Stiles himself paused before turning around and grinning wildly.

 

“Jackie!” He cheerfully said, to which Jackson scowled but didn’t say anything.

 

“I thought you weren’t coming back for another month?” Lydia’s voice was still filled with confusement.

 

“My plane ride got moved up a couple weeks.” Jackson replied, slightly blushing.

 

“You mean you had it moved up to be next to Lydia sooner.” Stiles quipped in.

 

“Shut up Stilinski!” Jackson hotly said, while Stiles stuck his tongue out at him.

 

“Boys! You see each other for the first time in months, and this is how you act?” They both turned towards Lydia.

 

“Pretty much.” Stiles admitted, shrugging his shoulders before motioning Jackson to come over and sit with them. Jackson did so, sitting next to Lydia, and putting an arm around her shoulders and leaning into her. He wrinkled his nose at the sight. “Dude, she’s all yours. You know that, right? I haven’t liked her in a few years.”

 

“Anyways…” Lydia elongated the word. “So do we know anything?”

 

“Not really.” Derek threw a word in. “Deaton wasn’t that helpful, but he said he’d ask his contacts.”

 

“What’s going on?” Jackson stared at everyone.

 

“Lydia’ll have to fill you in later.” Stiles stood up, fumbling to get his phone out of his back pocket. “Another murder just happened.”

 

“How’d you know?” Liam questioned him, getting a shrug for a reaction.

 

“I hooked my phone up to the police scanner.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Finally, another murder. Stiles cringed at the sound of that. It wasn’t that he was happy another innocent died, but at least this way a clue could be found or something that would lead them to the perpetrator.

 

The woman was well known as Ms. Simmons, the town florist, the woman who had a major crush on the married dentist.

 

A neighbor had heard her scream, and went to investigate, only to find her in her bedroom, half naked, and a look of terror etched onto her face. They called the police immediately, in hopes of getting an ambulance, and started CPR, but she was already gone.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Now, two hours after the area had been cleared, Stiles was at the scene with Lydia, Scott and Derek in tow.

 

The house and surrounding area was quiet, blocked off from bright yellow police tape. Blatantly ignoring the tape, Stiles ducked under it and made his way towards the house.

 

“I’ll get the top floor. Derek, you get the basement, and you two can search the rest.” He gave out orders, before opening the door with a gloved hand and quickly running up the stairs.

 

It was quiet, even with three people in the building below him. A creepy chill came over him as he made his way to the murder scene. Upon entering the room, he stopped in his tracks.

 

In front of him, kneeling down on the floor, and touching the blood-stained carpet.

 

“Freeze!” He put his hands up. By far, not his best idea, but this way the others could hear him and come help. Slowly, the person stood up and Stiles’s breath caught in his throat as he began to turn around. “Tori!” He hissed out, anger suddenly overtaking him.

 

Her eyes glowed more intensely, and a bone-chilling crack happened. With wide eyes, Stiles watched on as scales started to replace her skin as the human appearance molted off of her. The smell of rotten flesh hit his nose and he reared back in disgust.

 

"I'm going to enjoy killing you S-S-Stiles-s-s-s." She lunged forward, only to quickly retreat at the flash of a bright light.  Behind him, Stiles heard the three skid into the room next to him. Hissing, Tori covered her eyes and moved backed up further. ¨Later-s-s-s-s then Stiles-s.” She snapped out, lashing her tail out at them and causing them to cover their eyes.

 

When the pack opened their eyes again, she was gone.

 

No scent trail. Just gone. Disappeared

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Stiles flung the loft door open in a fury and stormed over to one of the couches, crossing his arms before sitting down on it. Scott followed after, stopping in the doorway for a second, and just staring at his fuming best friend. The entire car ride back, there had been an intense atmosphere, where even Lydia had done her best not to talk.

 

“Stiles,” Scott began, taking a step forward. Stiles jumped back up to his feet and started to pace the floor.

 

“We almost had her, Scott!”

 

“Who’s her? Stiles you have to talk! We only got there at the last second. Any longer and you would’ve been snake chow!” He argued back, moving closer to Stiles. However, Lydia brushed past him, put her hands on Stiles’s shoulders, only for her hands to be angrily pushed off.

 

“Her? You didn’t see that...that...that bitch.” Stiles threw his hands up in the air and stomped away from the two into the kitchen, completely ignoring Derek having to side-step, because when the hell did he come into the loft. He grabbed one of the dirty dishes on the counter, turned on the sink, and started scrubbing away at the food grit. Quickly he finished, shoved the plate at the person who came to stand next to him, and grabbed another without looking. “Ow!” Stiles cried out, his finger going to his mouth immediately, blocking the stream of profanities he wanted to say.

 

“Let me see.” The person next to him demanded, taking his hand out of his mouth and inspecting it.

 

“It’s fine…Derek.” Stiles gulped and after seeing the worry in Derek’s eyes, his resolve broke, not even trying to fight for his hand back. Sighing, Stiles let Derek inspect the cut on his pointer finger. It had gone extremely quiet, but Stiles didn’t seem to notice as he just stared into Derek’s green eyes, that just seemed to be staring right back. Unconsciously, he licked his lips and parted them a little in a small ‘o’ shape. He wasn’t even paying attention to his bleeding finger anymore and ended up startling himself when he made a small noise when Derek put his finger in his mouth. But for some reason, Stiles couldn’t find it disgusting when Derek’s tongue trailed over his finger.

 

When Derek released his grip on Stiles’s wrist, Stiles pulled away and forced his eyes down. The cut on his finger had healed, completely and one-hundred percent healed, not even a scar. “Wha-?” The question was on his tongue.

 

“It’s a trick I found out this summer.” Derek quickly responded, visibly retreating within himself and backing up a step. “Anyways, are you calm now? We should probably call a pack meeting for tomorrow.” Before Stiles could properly think, he found himself nodding.

 

“Yeah, until tomorrow.” He said, stepping away from Derek and rushing past Lydia and Scott, ignoring Scott’s open mouth of protest. Practically running down the stairs to his jeep, Stiles quickly sat in the drivers seat, only to sit there. What just happened?

 

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles took note of the desk next to him in English class, which was empty. Normally he wouldn’t care, but seeing as it was Isaac’s designated spot, Stiles became fidgety at the sight. Part of him wanted to leave right at the moment to go off to find him, yet he knew he couldn’t just stand up and leave without his father hearing about it.

 

Sighing, Stiles crossed his arms and leaned back, tapping his right foot while he was at it.

 

“Is there a problem, Mr. Stilinski?” The teacher’s nasally voice interrupted his thoughts.

 

“No, no problem.” Besides Isaac being missing.

 

“Then I suggest you uncross your arms and stop your sighing. It’s rude and distracting.” The teacher shot a look at him before turning around and continue teaching about a computer program called Grammerly, and how much it would help them improve their writing.  There was an interruption though, as Isaac came in. Quickly, Stiles took Isaac’s appearance  in.

 

He looked a little ashen in colour,with dark circles under his eyes. And Stiles felt absolutely terrible, at the skeleton-like look that was coming off of Isaac. It even looked as if there had been some muscle mass loss. "Rough night?" He questioned, voice full of empathy, when Isaac sat down.

 

"Kind of.” Isaac shrugged at him, pulling out his English notebook., "I might've slept on my neck wrong but other than that, I'm good." He turned away and began talking to Tori, a wide smile on his face. Stiles felt a dark glare appear on his face, with thoughts that both terrified him and pleased him. Forcing himself to pay attention to the words tumbling out of his teacher’s mouth, Stiles squirmed around in his chair for a comfortable position that allowed him to keep an eye on Tori.

 

And for the rest of the day, Stiles kept a keen watch on the...whatever she is, taking careful and detail notes inside his mind about every move she made.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Scott pulled his black and green helmet over his head, leaving the screen up to help him see his phone’s keyboard easier.

 

To Isaac:

Pack meting. B there in 5?

 

From Isaac:

going to hotel with Tori :) See ya guys Mon.

 

To Isaac:

Which hotel?

 

From Isaac:

It’s a surprise. She said she’s takin me there.

 

To Isaac:

K. Have fun! I’ll let the others no.

 

Tucking his phone into his backpack, Scott shut the helmet’s screen, and revved up his motorcycles engine.

 

* * *

 

 

“Where’s Isaac?” Derek narrowed his eyes, staring around the room searching for the familiar blonde curls.

 

“Oh!” Scott exclaimed. “He’s with Tori at the moment. I got a text as I was leaving my house.” Stiles started to panic, ignoring his heart rate increasing.

 

“Well.” Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles saw Lydia flip her hair over her shoulder. “Let’s get to why we came here. Kira?”

 

“Oh, right!” Kira startled, as if she forgot that she had something to share. “I found this.” She held up a book, one that looked extremely old and that had dust on it’s evergreen colour cover that appeared to be there permanently. Contrasting everyone else’s faces, she appeared to be really excited. Stiles’s interests were piqued, however his worry for Isaac was raising as every second went by. “The book is from my great-great-grandmother, who got it from her mother. It’s a family book all about the creatures of Japan and anything they’ve ever met.”

 

“A family book of monsters?” Malia questioned.

 

“Exactly.” Nodding, Kira carefully opened it to a bookmarked page. “I told my mother about what was happening, and she pulled this out. We went through it together, and we had more things bookmarked, but this seemed like the only possibility after the snake scales showed up.”

 

“You know what we’re up against?” Derek’s voice was full of hope. Everyone in that moment, seemed to lean forward, eager to know more. Stiles himself, leaned on his knees with his chin on the top of his knuckles.

 

“Kiyohime.” Kira repeated, “My mom said it’s an ancient creature, and there’s only a handful still living.”

 

“I feel a story coming up.” Stiles grinned, nodding at her to continue, and snuggling more into the couches arm, with Malia leaning against him. The others did the same and as the shuffling died down, it grew silent in anticipation of the tale.

 

“It started with a woman loving a rich, married man.” Kira began, leaning forward and clasping her hands together on top of her knees, while somehow still holding onto the book.” They would have secret meetings together, and after a year of doing so, she asked him to run away with her, believing completely that they were soul mates. But he disagreed, and was angered by her suggestion, and she realized that she was just a pawn to be played with; that he never truly loved her the way she him.” She paused for a minute, as if recalling more.

 

That night, as they were departing for the last time, he stabbed her, not wanting his own reputation as leader of the village to be ruined, and after he left, she lay dying, bleeding out among the moonlit grass. As she was about to die, a witch appeared to her with wild white hair and pale white eyes. The witch talked to the woman and offered her a deal. In exchange for lasting life, the woman would be turned into something terrible, but only at night where the moon shines. The woman agreed, vengeance upon her heart, and the deal was sealed as she drew in a shaky last breath.”

 

“How stupid…” Liam muttered under his breath, receiving several glares and putting his hands up in defense.

 

“A terrible hissing noise plagued the villagers, that same night, causing a restlessness and turning dreams into nightmares. The next day, the woman was back at her own work as a laundry assistant, the blood on her clothes gone and no mark of where the knife would’ve penetrated her skin. To the villagers, it was just a normal day but when the man came to town and realized that she had not died, he panicked ordered her to be killed. But she had ran into the Forest of Yami.

 

With the moon once again rising, the man had set up a guard to protect his wife and home, as well as his two children, an eight-year-old boy and two-year-old daughter. They were no match for when she came, for to complete the curse, the woman had to kill that which caused her suffering. She slayed the guards, and killed the wife, keeping hidden with the children until the man came back home and saw the destruction. In anguish, he came at her with a burning katana, to which she shied away from, for fire was the only weakness she was to have.

 

In retaliation, she snapped the neck of the son, and after a split second of thought, bit into the daughter’s neck. Overwhelmed, the man accepted his fate, and the next day, was stuck on a stick for all to see.

 

The story isn’t over though. The bite to the daughter’s neck healed, and in turn, the kitsune was born, a firefox, and she burned down the house, and the bodies in it, and was deemed the protector of the village. As the sun rose up, the snake skin tore away, revealing the human in her again, and she fled. But because she had failed in kill all those responsible, the deal came with a curse that she would forever feed off that which she felt for the man...unrequited love.”

 

After the last word was uttered, they all sat quietly for a minute, thinking and contemplating the idea.

 

“So how does one become a Kiyo-Kiyohem?” Scott struggled with the word, like it was a terrible taste out of something he just ate.

 

“Kiyohime.” Lydia corrected him.

 

“I’m not sure. It’s in some form of ancient Japanese I can’t read.” Kira furrowed her eyebrows, and flipped the book over in her hands. “My mom was helping me to translate some of it.”

 

“So how’d you know the story?” The question was voiced from behind them all, near the spiral staircase. In shock, the group watched as Peter emerged from the shadows. “It was a very enticing story, don’t even bother denying it. But if you can’t read that book,” Peter pointed to it, “how on earth could you know the story?” As Kira opened her mouth and Derek stood up, Peter put up both of his hands. “It’s just a point, unless…” He trailed off, looking thoughtfully at Kira.

 

“Unless what?” Stiles bit out.

 

“Unless you’re related to the firefox that was turned, which in case, she’s actually after your family, Kira, and that’s why you know. The story has been passed down.” The air was suddenly filled with such a tenseness that it couldn’t be cut with a red hot butter knife.

 

“Every firefox is.” Kira slowly spoke. “And I know the story because, yes, it has been handed down. I didn’t know it before yesterday, though.”

 

“Ah, so the daughter was the first kiyohime, the very first of your kind.” Peter hummed.

 

“Yes, but you can become a firefox in different ways.” Some of the strained air left the room at Kira’s statement.

 

“I’m sure, but are you a direct descendent?” When Peter took a step forward, Scott gave off a growl.

 

“Peter,” Lydia snapped out at the older man, “ at least we know we have a way to kill this thing.” Peter shrugged his shoulders, and took a step back into the shadows that, in all irony, showed just how trustworthy the man really was.

 

“I wish you the best of luck then.” Then, he disappeared up the spiral staircase, leaving the rest of them glaring at the spot he was just at.

 

A long moment of silence passed, before Stiles decided to speak up.

 

"It's Tori." He said, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible. "And now she had Isaac all by herself, who knows where."

 

"Listen, Stiles." Lydia tried, her attention now facing him. "We know you don't like her but-"

 

"But nothing. I saw her the other night. She was there."

 

"She's a really lovely girl though." Kira argued.

 

"No, she's not. Why don't you guys see it?" Stiles's voice softened, and hurt was evident in the question. Scott shifted uncomfortably under Stiles's gaze, and Lydia looked away. Kira's mouth hung open but she closed it and chose to stare at something else. The others didn't look as if they knew where to stand. "Fine." He said in-between his teeth. "I'm going to go save Isaac while you guys sit on your asses. I'm not letting him die." Turning on his heel, Stiles opened the loft door a crack.

 

"I'll go with you." Stiles quickly looked back to see Derek grabbing his jacket off a nearby chair. "If you think Isaac's in trouble," Derek stared directly at Stiles, "then I'm helping."

 

"I'll help too." Malia stood up suddenly, and Liam followed. Nodding, Stiles glared at the rest.

 

"Feel free to follow." And then he left, hearing the footsteps behind him.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

It had taken them four hours to find the motel. Malia had gone with Stiles, and Liam went with Derek when they split ways at the loft. But by the second motel, the rest of the pack had joined in on the search for where Isaac had been taken. And now they’re at the last hotel that is just on the edge of town and juts out into the desert, Stiles feeling  a chill go down his back just by looking at it.

 

It was the same motel where Scott held a flare up as he stood in gasoline; the same motel where Boyd tried killing himself by holding himself down with a safe, and where Isaac had a flashback of being locked into his dad’s freezer. It was where Allison begged Scott to not give up, that there was always hope, and where Lydia jumped on top of them, pushing them out of the way just in time as the gasoline set on fire. Just being in the near vicinity of the creepy, surprisingly-not-abandoned motel, made Stiles uneasy. And apparently the rest of those who were there that night as they all cautiously got out of their cars. Closing his jeep’s door, Stiles shoved his hands inside his pants pockets, and glanced over at Scott, who was sniffing the air.

 

“He was here.” Scott nodded, getting agreement from the others who had the heightened senses. Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles could practically see the apology shining in Scott’s expression, but there were more important matters to be dealt with.

 

“Then we need to find him.” Stiles forcefully said, leaving no room for questions as he took a step towards the building. They broke up into the same groups that they drove in, covering the top to bottom of the motel, even the basement covered in cobwebs and where the lights flickered every so often.

 

Hours passed, and the room that smelled the most of Isaac had no trace of where the two were, just messy sheets and a torned blanket. Nearing two in the morning, the pack was completely, and utterly exhausted after overturning the entire motel for any signs of life in fact. Even the unnerving attendance woman was gone. So, picking out rooms on the top floors, the pack decided to take the night in shifts, just in case. Derek and Scott were chosen for the first shift  and then were given the instructions to wake Jackson and Danny up at three o’clock. Lydia and Kira went to share a room, just as Malia and Stiles were, and Jackson and Danny.

 

About half an hour passed, the silence practically killing Stiles as the clock ticked on. Carefully maneuvering himself out of the spooning position with Malia, he pulled on a pair of red PJ pants and a white t-shirt, and walked outside, quietly closing the door behind him. Sighing, Stiles walked up to the balcony railing and leaning on it with his forearms, clasping his hands in front of him. Closing his eyes, he tilted his face up towards the almost-full moon and stilled in his restless movements.

 

"You should be asleep." Derek's voice came from right beside him, causing Stiles to jump out of his phase and look at him startled.

 

"Yeah, well I-I'm keeping watch." Stiles stumbled over his words when his eyes glazed over Derek's body. Despite the slight chill that hung in the air, he was wearing a white wife beater and a pair of sweatpants that completely astounded Stiles. Since when did Derek know about something other than leather?

 

"You're tired." Derek observed.

 

"Why can't you just leave me alone, Derek?" Stiles groaned, not even bothering to wave his hands around, and turned back to looking out over the motel balcony.

 

"I can't." Derek replied simply.

 

“Why not?” Narrowing his eyes, Stiles turned his head and demanded.

 

“Because I still love you!” Derek snapped at him. Before he could say anything, the front of his shirt was grabbed and suddenly Derek’s lips were on his. Automatically, Stiles brought his hands up to cup Derek’s face and pulled him closer. Somewhere in the back of his head a voice whispered something about Malia, but the only thing Stiles could concentrate on was the fact that he and Derek were kissing again. He let Derek take the lead as his body felt a bit numb from the raging emotions clashing in his body, putting his hands on Derek’s lower back.

 

Derek gladly took control, ignoring the fact that Stiles was currently dating someone, and pushed Stiles against a nearby motel pole in enthusiasm, which caused Stiles to let out a soft, almost inaudible moan and stretch his neck out. Happily, Derek moved his kissing down Stiles’s neck, breathing in Stiles’s euphoria scent, which drove him all the more crazy to be so close to Stiles again. A pair of hands brought his head back up and they continued making out, ravishing the other’s lips as their hands traveled up and down the other’s body.

 

“What the hell?” Scott’s clear voice broke the two out of their zone, or at least Stiles, because he roughly shoved Derek away. “Stiles, how could you do that to Mal-”

 

“It was me. I kissed him.” Derek looked straight at Stiles as he spoke, not even glancing at Scott from the corner of his eyes. “I’m going to bed now that you’re up, Scott. Goodnight.” With barely any sound, Derek turned away and stalked to his room, at least that’s what Stiles and Scott both assumed.

 

Furiously Scott turned on Stiles, his eyes flashing the bright ruby red that showed he was alpha. "How could you do that Stiles?" There was an incredulous look branded on Scott's face as he kept looking at Stiles, waiting for an answer.

 

A dazed look covered Stiles's face the more he thought about what happened. Then a mix of emotions splayed across his face, leaving his mouth hanging slightly open.

 

"Stiles, come on." No doubt Scott was disappointed, especially with the tone of voice being brushed his way.

 

"He kissed me..." Stiles trailed off, his voice going softer with each word.

 

"No shit!" Scott yelled, but he winced when he realized people were still sleeping and lowered his voice to the quiet, collective yell. "And you kissed him back Stiles. Why didn't you push him away, especially after what he said to you last year?"

 

"I-" Stiles tried to talk, physically feeling the anger Scott was letting off.

 

"What Stiles?" Scott threw his hands up. A look of realization came across Scott's face and he glowered at Stiles. "Do you still love him?" Shocked, Stiles's mouth fell open and he didn't make a move to close it.

 

"Love who?" Malia's sharp voice carried on throughout the motel hallway as she stepped out of the doorways shadow. Around the same time, Danny came running out of his room with Jackson, Kira, and Lydia behind him.

 

"What's wrong, Scott?" Lydia demanded, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. When her eyes locked with Stiles's, she somehow narrowed her eyes in judgement and raised her eyebrows in curiosity. "Stiles?" Then everyone was staring at him. Turning a shade of red because he and Scott had woken everyone up, Stiles shook his head.

 

"Nothing. It was nothing." Stiles hardened his expression at Scott and empathized the word 'nothing' as a way to beg his best friend not to mention anything.

 

"Nothing?" Scott let out a mocking laugh. "Didn't look like nothing."

 

"Scott, stop. What are you doing, man?" Stiles saw Lydia take a step towards him.

 

"What's going on Scott?" It was Malia who asked this time, unfolding her arms to move closer.

 

"I don't know..." Scott all but snarled sarcastically in Stiles's direction. "Why don't you ask him why he smells like Derek?" Then it went so quiet that the cliché crickets could be heard chirping. Closing his eyes, Stiles took a deep breath.

 

"Stiles?" There it was, Malia's voice...filled with hurt and laced with something dangerous.

 

"Yeah?" Stiles swallowed hard, refusing to open his eyes.

 

"Did you-?" It seemed like Malia couldn't bring herself to ask.

 

"We kissed, yeah." Stiles heard a soft gasp and awaited for the inevitable slap. After a few minutes of waiting and cringing every time he thought it would happen, Stiles opened his eyes. Astonishment filled him as he saw the only reason he wasn't being hit was due to Lydia holding Malia's hand. Growling, Malia pulled away, looking at Stiles in both longing and with anger.

 

“Danny, Jackson,” Lydia loudly demanded, “please take Scott and Malia here and lock them up for the rest of the night. Stiles and I will keep watch, and have a talk.” As Danny gently grabbed Malia’s wrist, Malia pushed him off and stalked into her own room, leaving the door open for Danny to follow. Scott on the other hand, just growled as Jackson touched him but didn’t strike out, instead allowing himself to be pulled down and into the adjacent room. “Keep an eye on her.” Lydia reminded Danny just as he walked into the room with Malia, closing the door behind him, leaving Lydia and Stiles all alone in the quiet area surrounding the motel at three in the morning.

  
  



	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So this chapter used to be a few chapters ahead, but there was a comment about it, and it swung my opinion on where it should be. Shout out to aristablightnn for pointing it out! I hope it's less confusing now.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it! Hope you've enjoyed everything so far! 
> 
> Please leave a kudos or comment, or both :) I love hearing from the readers and seeing what their opinions are on how the story is going, or where they think it's going. Or just an overall reflection of the chapter. :)
> 
> Thanks!

“Come on Stiles. We’re going for a ride, and you’re not getting out of this.” Lydia demanded, grabbing his hand and beginning to drag him towards the motel’s steps to the ground level. Still in a small state of shock, Stiles just let her drag him along until they reached his jeep, where he paused after pulling the keys out of his pocket.

 

“Wait, we can’t just leave Lydia! We need to stand guard.” He argued, to which she rolled her eyes.

 

“Stiles, I love you but you’re an idiot. They’re werewolves and I doubt that they’re going back to sleep easily after that shouting match. I get that everyone’s on the edge of the seat but we can’t start yelling at each other. Besides, they have super hearing, they’ll be able to hear us when we talk.” Lydia held out her hand and motioned for him to pass the keys over.

 

“I still don’t think-”

 

“For God’s sake Stiles!” She threw her hands up before grabbing the keys out of his hand. “Get in.”

 

“Woah, wait here. I’m driving.”

 

“Don’t be stupid, Stiles. You just had your romance life flip over, just get in and stop complaining. I promise your jeep won’t switch it’s loyalty over to me if I drive it tonight.” Lydia snapped at him, before hopping in the driver’s seat and effortlessly turned the jeep on. “Get in, Stiles. I won’t ask you again.” Hesitantly, he walked over to the passenger side and climbed in. As she pulled out of the driveway, he reached over to turn on some music but she slapped his hand with force. They must’ve drove for a good ten minutes into the middle of nowhere, before Lydia finally pulled the jeep over. Silence clogged the air around him, almost suffocating him, and he began tapping his fingers, silently counting them in his head.

 

“Do you still love him?” The question hung in the space between the two when she spoke. “And think really carefully on what you say next because you can’t pull at people’s feelings and fix people as easily as you can fix this jeep.” Seconds passed. Then minutes before he managed to speak, his voice coming out hoarse.

 

“Yes.” Stiles choked up, and tears began rolling down his cheeks. “God, I tried. I’ve tried so hard to like Malia, I mean, I do like Malia, she’s gorgeous and funny. But it’s….it’s Derek. I can’t get him out of my mind no matter how hard I try. He’s always in the back of my head making those little snippy comments. I’ll see something, a couple, and my mind instantly goes to Derek and I instead of me and Malia. I’ll see something in a store window and immediately think that that would be something Derek would like or that would be a good joke to play on him. I’ve tried Lydia. Especially after what happened at the beginning of this summer. I’ve tried so hard.” Bringing his hands to his face, he wiped away the tears. Lydia was silent, and he took that as a means to continue. “And I want to like her Lydia, but sometimes she can be so crass about things. Like she asked about my mom and when they could meet, and she looks at guys. I mean, she’s clearly not ready to settle down, I’m not either, but I question her loyalty sometimes.” It went quiet again.

 

“Stiles, you know me. You know how I can sometimes be really….blatant about some things, so I’m not going to stop now, and I’m sorry for not being gentle about this. You and Malia shouldn’t be together. You’re right, she’s not ready for the monogamous relationship she thinks she is. She loves you, but I feel like it’s more like you’re her brother than a lover. She’s still learning how to be discreet and how to not be so blunt when it comes to personal things, like your mom. You and Derek have never been the best. You two used to circle around each other like vultures and used to pick on each other so much that I thought at one point that you guys really did hate each other. Yet at the same time, you two have never been so perfect for the other. Both of you have a silent language, his is to be grumpy and yours is to be energetic, and you understand what the other is saying. There’s no effort because there doesn’t need to be any. You’re two puzzle pieces that complete the design. You’re the complementary colours, and you keep yourselves in balance.”

 

“I know…” Stiles mumbled under his breath in a defeated sound, his shoulders sagging, releasing the tension that was there from the surprise kiss.

 

“You didn’t see Derek after you left. He was a mess, a bundle of chaos, and so, so very self-destructive. I had to bring him food because he wouldn’t go shopping. It took him a month to get out of his loft, and that’s because I screamed and refused to stop until he left. Of course, he went and sat down in his car, but he moved and that’s what counted. He tried you know.”

 

“Tried what?” He turned to stare at her, which she returned.

 

“To get to you before you left. But the plane took off as he got to the gate number.”

 

“I didn’t...I didn’t know that.” Stiles made a face of agony, confusion, and relief. “Do you think he still....is there a possibility that…he would...you know…forgive me?”

 

“I think at this point, he’s more worried about you forgiving him.” Lydia lightly scoffed at him, before placing her hand on top of his and giving it a little squeeze. “We should get going back, but Stiles?” He nodded at her. “You need to let Malia know. Don’t drag it out, because it won’t end well. Promise?”

 

“I promise.” He swore.

 

“Good. Now let’s go find Isaac.”

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Stiles’s blood froze in his veins. He was cold and his wrists hurt, which matched the pounding headache he was sporting. His breath hitched when his bare feet (he was almost positive he had put socks on) twitched on the concrete floor.

 

“You’re awake.” A woman’s voice rang out, echoing in whatever room they were in. Despite his eyes still being closed, he flinched at how loud her voice seemed. Stiles groaned a little as he rolled his aching neck, causing it to crack before opening his eyes.

 

Almost immediately he shut them again, the lights being too bright for him to handle. He most definitely had a concussion, and he berated himself for being injured. Opening his eyes again, he focused on the figure in front of him that was slowly coming into focus.

 

“Isaac?” Stiles coughed out, realizing how dry his throat actually was. “Isaac?” He tried again, but one more, there was no movement from the curly-haired lad. “What did you do to him?” He asked out, coughing from talking some more. Tori wasn’t in front of him, but it still surprised him when she grabbed onto his shoulders, and dug her nails in.

 

“Nothing he didn’t want.” She whispered into his ear, her lips so close that Stiles could practically feel them brush against his lobe. “And something you’ll beg for.”

 

“I’d rather die than beg you for something.” He spat out, getting her tisk in reply.

 

“Oh, you’ll definitely want it. They all do in the end.” she bit onto his ear playfully and ruffled his hair before standing up and moving in front of him, crouching down to eye level. “I’m going to kill you, Stiles, slowly and painfully, like polonium. I’m going to feed off of you, and in the end, you’ll get down on your hands and knees, and beg me to kill you out of mercy. And at that point, I’ll laugh in your face, and walk away, leaving you withering in an unimaginable amount of pain.”

 

“Then get on with it. Stop talking and just do it!” Stiles yelled, trying to antagonize her. But all she did was laugh, a long, high-pitched, grating laugh that irritated him more and more as it continued. She stood up again, straightening out her clothes as her laughter died down, before walking over to where Isaac was lying unconscious and pale.

 

“Stay away from him, you bitch!” Stiles pulled on the chains holding his wrists, and struggled to stand up. In a split second though, she was in front of him, grabbing onto his neck and holding him up in the air, causing him to start choking.

 

“Ah, ah, ah! Sit back down.” Tori glared at him before tossing him to the ground, his back hitting the wall he was chained to from the momentum of being thrown.

 

“You’ll never win!” He called out to her when she turned her back on him again to kneel over Isaac. “Never!” Yanking on the chains once more, Stiles winced at the metal digging into his skin.

 

“I’ll be back in a few hours.” Tori said, standing up and wiping her hands on her pants, leaving a reddish stain on the jeans. “I have to go to school.” And with that, she walked up the wooden stairs that Stiles hadn’t noticed before, and slammed the door behind her. The sound of locks seemed to hit him, making him realize that there really was no escape from this one.

 

Sighing, Stiles leaned his head back, resting it against the large copper pole he was chained onto. It was cold, but it felt absolutely fantastic against  the humid, sticky warmth that the basement seemed to be surrounded in. He gulped, as a bead of sweat traveled down his temple, threatening to drip off his face. Beforehand he hadn’t seemed to notice the temperature, though now, it bothered him greatly.

 

Sleep was something he knew he needed, and something he wanted, Stiles knew though, that he wouldn’t be getting sleep and he couldn’t allow himself to get drowsy. He didn’t know how severe his concussion was, and since no one, but an unconscious Isaac is around to wake him up every few hours, he’d have watch himself carefully.

 

Moving around again, Stiles pretzeled his legs, and moved his hands till they were resting in his lap. Taking his head off the copper, he looked down to access the damage done to his hands. All around his wrists in a perfect circle, were blue and slightly green bruises. Some of it looked more brown and others black, but he wasn’t sure if that was from the metal rubbing off or if that part was just severely bruised.

 

“Isaac?” Stiles whispered out, his voice not being able to go any louder from lack of hydration. The teen stirred. “Isaac?” He forcibly said his friend’s name, causing his voice to crack. Isaac stirred but didn’t wake, causing Stiles to let out a frustrated sigh. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Looking around, he let out another sigh. “Why is it always the basement?”

 

Taking a chance to survey his surroundings, Stiles glanced around. To his immediate left was a workshop table, with a variety of tools scattered across it. However, none of them appeared to be used in years with the amount of spiderwebs and dust on them. Next to that was a lamp, one of those that the light can be manipulated in which direction it’s shining. Then it was Isaac, who appeared to be lying on bags of potatoes or something else lumpy and uncomfortable. Covering the far wall were some cabinets, some of the doors cracked open enough for him to figure out it was the house’s pantry, or at least a back-up. He was roughly in the middle of the room.

 

To his right, there were some small windows, that were absolutely filthy, and most obviously haven’t been washed in years. Though, they did give him some slight relief as they did help him determine whether it was day or night, or basically what the weather was like. Underneath the windows were broken bookshelves with ancient looking books, some with the spine bend awkwardly. A few looked like a rat may have chewed on them a little to try them out.

 

Trying to look behind him, there was a small wooden staircase, with crooked, warped stairs, leading up to a pale white door. Other than that, there was a small black fridge, or freezer, and an old washtub alongside a washing machine and a dryer. There was a close line as well, with those common plastic hangers hooked onto it, attached to one side of the room and leaving off at the other. It wasn’t too bad of a basement, pretty basic and all.

 

Satisfied that it wasn’t crowded, Stiles focused his attention back on Isaac. From his view, there were no injuries on Isaac’s face, and judging from the paleness of Isaac’s skin, he came to the conclusion that it was fatigue. Nodding to himself, Stiles attempted to get a little comfortable. Sleep was his best chance at the moment since she was gone.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Get up.” Someone kicked his leg. “Get up!” The harsh tone said again. Jolting awake, Stiles came face-to-face with Tori. “There you go. Mornin’ sleeping beauty.” Glancing around, Stiles took note that it was dark outside, which meant he had thankfully slept for a couple of hours. “Ah, ah, ah! I need your attention on me.” Ignoring her, Stiles swiveled his head around her to take a look at Isaac. He instantly felt relief when he noticed Isaac was finally awake, but the terror in Isaac’s eyes stopped the feeling from going too far. “I said look at me.” Tori snarled out, her hand gripping his jaw and turning his head towards her.

 

“Actually, you said that you needed my attention.” Stiles smugly retorted. A sudden pain hit his cheek, sending his head to the side from the force, and instantly he felt blood starting to drip. His mouth opened in a small ‘O’ shape and he stayed still for a second out of shock.

 

“Don’t be a smart-ass.” Her voice loudly said. Concussion, he reminded himself, but judging from how well he slept for a few hours, Stiles became almost certain that it wasn’t severe.

 

“Stiles?” Isaac’s voice cracked, and it sounded extremely dry, causing Stiles to wince.

 

“How lovely for you to join us, Isaac.” Tori’s sweet, caring voice came back again, and at that moment, all Stiles wanted to do was punch her. “See,” she turned back to Stiles, “now we have an audience.” He scowled at her and narrowed his eyes at her statement. “Let’s get you up.” Before he could move, Tori grabbed underneath his arms and hoisted him up, as if he didn’t weigh anything. He went to kick her, but was dismayed by finding out his feet were suddenly chained as well. When she drew away, Stiles immediately felt the pull in his shoulders, and he couldn’t stop the cry of pain that broke from his lips.

 

“Stop!” He heard Isaac’s protest, but Tori’s laugh just followed after. The pain lingered, but he clenched his jaw, refusing to make another sound.

 

“Awe, no more beautiful noises?” A pout appeared on Tori’s face, and Stiles spat at her. She made a sound of outrage, and then all Stiles could feel was searing pain traveling up and down his leg. He heard a scream, but it took him a couple of seconds to realize it was him, and a couple of more to realize that she had broken his leg. “Like music to my ears.” Tori winked at him, and he thrashed around, trying to break the chains on his hands, but he only succeeded in causing himself more pain. “Do it again.” She demanded, and just as he was about to spit at her again, she punched him.

 

And kept punching him. Stiles felt his eye swollen the second she hit it, but most of her aims were at his chest and stomach. Probably in an attempt to preserve his handsome face, he joked to himself. His torso felt sore after the third hit, and he was pretty sure that somewhere along the way, one of his ribs gave out. Stiles tasted blood in his mouth, and after a few minutes, he almost gave in and indulged her in what she wanted, which was to make sure she was hurting him. But Isaac spoke up amongst his thoughts of pain and stopped him.

 

“Don’t give in, Stiles. You’re stronger than this. You’re stronger than any of us, even us werewolves.” Grasping onto that, Stiles kept his mouth shut and endured the gross amount of torment and punches thrown his way. The air echoed with Tori’s remorseless laugh.

 

A couple of more minutes passed, or maybe it was seconds, and while Stiles didn’t give in to making sounds, he was starting to give in to sleep, from the pain overload. He was going to die by being physically beaten. In some ways, he agreed it was probably the best way he could go considering his lifestyle of hanging around werewolves and other creatures of the supernatural, but in others, he couldn’t help to think about how unfair it was. He absolutely refused to put the blame on Isaac though.

 

Just as he started to go unconscious, a banging noise came from up above, and he began chuckling, low at first, and then it grew into a full on laugh, despite how much it hurt his ribs. He couldn’t be sure if it was because he was high on endorphins or just from straight out relief, but whatever it was, it stopped the punches from coming.

 

“Why are you laughi-?” Tori’s question was cut short as the door to the basement came crashing down. Stiles’s laughter grew more maniacal when he heard a low, vibrating growl.

 

“You’re in some deep shit now.” He smiled at her, not caring that his teeth were bloody. A huge ball of black fur barreled into her and knocked her backwards against the cabinets.

 

In a mix of events, Stiles began to pass out, only to be shaken away by the one and only Lydia. He had already been cut down, and his hands and feet were free from the confining metal. He was greatly leaning against Lydia, and it took him a while to notice that Tori had changed into the snake beast, and was fighting the group of werewolves, and kitsune, in front of him.

 

Stiles watched as Scott slashed at her tail, and he yelled out when he noticed Tori turning, but was too late. She spewed something at his best friend and  whatever-the-hell-it-was hit Scott straight in the eyes, and almost instantaneously Scott was down on the ground, covering his face and withering in pain. “F-” Scott held the curse in, but Stiles knew exactly what he wanted to say, because that’s exactly what he wanted to say, but he seriously doubted an angry version of “King’s Speech” F-Bomb session was going to do anything useful.

 

Grabbing onto Lydia’s hand out of comfort, all Stiles could do was watch, as Isaac got thrown against a wall being rendered unconscious, and how Derek barely managed to tumble out of way as Tori’s tail came crashing down like a whip. He watched as Tori knocked Malia sideways, and Malia dropped like dead weight to the ground, out cold. It was like a movie with how Jackson jumped on her back, snarling out, but her slamming her back against a wall, causing him to go out like a light and fall to the floor. At some point, Liam’s body skidded across the floor and one look at him, and Stiles could easily tell that he too was unconscious.

 

Derek’s roar hit the air and Stiles tightly closed his eyes from the amount of distress that sounded out. Peeking one of his eyes open, he saw Derek being thrown to the ground near where Isaac was.

 

They were losing.

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

Kira’s lip was torn, and blood was running slowly down her chin. She was huffing as she drew her sword once more. Holding his breath, Stiles brought Lydia’s head closer to his chest, willing her not to watch. Scott was stumbling away in the far corner, holding one hand on the wall for balance. Derek was crouching over the unconscious Isaac, a trail of blood on the side of his head, and his shirt torn, revealing healing cuts. He looked beyond tired, but he still knelt there, snarling in the direction of the Kiyohime.

 

Jackson and Malia, on the other hand, was unconscious, lying on the ground towards the broken desk next to each other. Danny’s hand touched his shoulder, causing him to startle, but his eyes never left Kira. Never had he felt more guilt-ridden then he did now. Instead of being able to help out, he was only able to sit on the ground and watch.

 

She was failing, practically taking an extra beating for all of them. He watched as she fell on her front, the sword bouncing off the ground and out of her hand, stopping a good two feet away from her. The Kiyohime turned around, baring it’s teeth and hissing louder than before, as if it were a victorious battle cry. Stiles ducked, holding Lydia closer to him if possible, and turning his body to where he was blocking Lydia.

 

And then, a disgusting, squishy noise came, accompanied by a loud scream, and the room fell silent. Stiles kept flinching every time he thought something was about to happen. He jumped nearly three feet when a hand tapped him on his back. Danny...his mind supplied him.

 

Lifting his head up, Stiles blinked a couple of times, not realizing he had shut them in the first place.

 

Next to him, lying on the floor and staring right at him, was Tori. Her skin was still patterned with snake scales, but other than that, she appeared human. Her hair was an abysmal black, and she was naked, a downside also with werewolf shifting.

 

Stiles looked away, letting slightly go of Lydia, as Danny stepped over, and laid his worn-out jacked across Tori’s body.

 

“Check.” Stiles called out, his eyes trailing back over to where Tori laid dead.

 

“Here.” Lydia said, sitting up and pulling a little away from Stiles’s grip.

 

“Here.” Across the room, the word rang out, a coughing fit shortly afterward. Kira sounded completely exhausted, but still she spoke. “Scott?”

 

“Here, somewhere.” Stiles turned to look at his best friend, just as Scott leaned against the battered wall and slid down, spreading his legs out in front of him.

 

“I have Isaac over here.” Derek said next, not letting the silence take over again. “He’s unconscious, but his scratches are healing.”

 

“Good, good.” Stiles murmured. “Malia? Jackson?”

 

“They’re both unconscious.” A voice interrupted. “But they’ll be alright by tomorrow.” Stiles whipped his head around to see a short, probably 5’3”, woman step out of the rooms’ shadows and walk to where Malia was lying. The woman bent down and checked her for a pulse. Satisfied she had gotten one, the stood back up. Glancing around the room, Sties noticed the rest were focused in on the woman to, all while moving a little closer to each other.

 

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to hurt you guys any more than you already are. My born name is Hotaru, but I now go my Tamotsu. I’m a kitsune, much like your Kira Yukimura here.” Tamotsu tapped the sword at her side with her fingers, holding their attention. “I’m not a threat to any of you, but the kiyohime.” She had a scowl on her face when she spat out the creature’s name.

 

“It was you?” Derek asked, puzzled.

 

“It was all of us. I just finished her off. A little more training, Kira, and you would’ve had her at your mercy. However, you wouldn’t have been able to kill her completely. She would’ve been reborn a few hours after you left.” Tamotsu shrugged, standing up and turning to leave.

 

“Wait!” Kira called out, scrambling to stand up. “I have so many questions, wouldn’t you like to come over and eat? I’m sure my mother would love to meet you.” As Tamotsu started to turn back around, Derek suddenly cried out in pain, causing a quick shift in attention.

 

“Derek!” Stiles pulled himself along the floor to his side, trying to get to him as fast as he could. Derek curled up within himself, it looked like he was having a seizure of some sort. A momentous amount of panic and fear flooded Stiles’s body. “No, no, no…” He mumbled out, his eyes widening.

 

“Hold him down.” Tamotsu came up behind him and demanded, reaching into a satchel at her side as she did so. “He’s been bitten.” Stiles tried to keep Derek still, but the strength he had compared to that of Derek’s was nothing, and Derek started to thrash even harder. “Quickly now!” Tamotsu shouted at him from behind. In a blurred moment, Kira came up as well as Danny and Jackson, though no one could recall when he had regained consciousness. Lydia grabbed Stiles’s arms, and being mindful of his leg, pulled him away.

 

“No! Lydia, let go of me! Derek!” Stiles struggled, and when he broke out of Lydia’s grip, Danny put a hand up and pushed him back.

 

“I know you want to help at the moment, but get back, Stiles.” Danny barked the order at him, before returning his hand to help keep Derek still. Stiles fell down, not noticing the tears running down her face. He felt numb as he watched Derek continue to seize, and he ignored the arms that were pulling him into a hug. His eyes couldn’t help but fixate on what was happening.

 

“He’ll be okay. He’s going to be fine.” Lydia whispered into his ear, putting a hand to his head and doing her best to comfort him.

 

“What is that?” Stiles managed to choke out when Tomatsu pulled a little red vial from her purse. It wasn’t something extraordinary, just a small bottle, like one of the small Danimals bottles, but thinner and a glassy outlook.

 

“It’ll help him.” Was all she said as she took out a needle, withdrew some sort of liquid from the vial and plunged the needle into Derek’s chest. Stiles cried out as she did so, and some of the others flinched away, but kept holding Derek down. Then time seemed to pause, as a few seconds after, Derek’s body stopped moving completely.

 

“Derek?” Stiles whispered. “Derek, come on. Come on!” His voice was getting progressively louder. Breaking out of Lydia’s embrace again, he crawled to his side, the others moving away to let him through. “Derek?” The whispering was back as Stiles cupped Derek’s face with hands. In the background, he could hear Kira crying into Scott’s shoulder and Danny talking to Jackson about what had happened. “Derek! Don’t you do this to me too, you son of a bitch!” He yelled out all of a sudden, his veins lighting on fire from anger. “You said that you’d wait for me, and that you’d do everything for my forgiveness. Don’t you remember that?”

 

“Stiles…” Lydia tried to speak.

 

“No! He’s not dead. He can’t be. It’s Derek. He doesn’t know how to die.” Tears blocked Stiles’s vision and he blinked them away. A hand touched his shoulder, and Stiles’s resolve broke. “He can’t-he’s not dead. He can’t be.”

 

There was a solemn silence in the air, and no one moved.

 

And then, a gasp for air broke the sullenness, and things were thrown into motion again. Leaning over, Stiles looked Derek up and down, searching for any other major injuries. Behind him, Kira was thanking Tamotsu, who had then informed Kira that she’d very much like to meet a kitsune family. Lydia was hugging Jackson really tight and Danny was laughing at Jackson’s flustered attempt to push her off.

 

“Derek?” Stiles searched Derek’s face for a sign of a sort. When his eyes finally opened, Stiles couldn’t stop the immediate reaction of bending down and full-out kissing him. Relief had never been such a strong feeling for him as it was now. At one point Derek started kissing back, but Stiles broke away just as quickly as he had begun, and slapped Derek on the face, not risking a punch and damaging his hand. “You jerk!” Wiping away angry tears, Stiles backed away, allowing room for Derek to sit up.

 

“What happened?”

 

“You were bit.” Tamotsu spoke out. “The venom is lethal to creatures of all kinds, but it just takes longer for it to act in the supernatural.” Derek nodded, before a disgusted look appeared on his face.

 

“What did you give me to drink?”

 

“Rosemary, cinnamon, ginger and milk thistle. As well as an antivenin.”

 

“How’d you-?”

 

“Know?” Tamotsu intervened in Jackson’s question. “When you live to be four thousand years old, you learn a trick or two. In this case, how to heal wounds from an old friend.” She abruptly stood up. “Kira, does tomorrow at six work? I don’t want to over-welcome my stay, plus, I have some tricks I would like to show you.” Not waiting for Kira’s reply, Tamotsu swiftly walked away.

 

For a second, everyone looked at each other, although Stiles did his best to avoid eye contact with Derek. After the tense atmosphere broke, leaving nothing but relief, they all started helping each other stand up, or try to wake those unconscious. It took a good slap to the jaw to get Isaac to even move, and then a hard packed punch by Danny, finally woke him up. With Malia, it was easier. All Lydia had to do was yank on her hair. Harsh? Yes, but so long as it worked, no one really cared. Liam had woken up from Malia’s screech, all confused as to what had happened, but at the time, no one wanted to fill him in.

 

It took a good half hour for them all to make it back to the cars, Stiles finding out that Lydia had volunteered to drive his Jeep and follow the others, so thankfully, none of them had to go to that terrible motel again.

 

Derek had instantly gone to his Camaro, which caused Danny to pat Stiles lightly on the shoulder and go take the passenger seat. Liam wasn’t too far behind, kind of following Danny like a lost puppy, and in a way, it reminded Stiles of how Isaac use to follow Scott everywhere to get a sense of belonging in Scott’s pack.

 

As Jackson and Lydia were saying goodbye, Malia gave him a tight hug, clinging unto him for a few seconds before releasing and taking a step away. She gave him a soft smile, and nodded to herself, turning away from him and getting into Jackson’s car.

 

“Lydia, I can drive.” He protested, turning around to face the redhead and holding his hand out for the keys she had somehow stole out of his pocket.

 

“Like hell you are.” She snatched his keys away from his reach and pointed, with her other hand, towards the jeep’s passenger seat. “Isaac, you get in back too.” Lydia ordered, not even looking back at the other beaten up teen.

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

The only possible explanation that he could think of to give the doctor’s for his injuries was that he fell down the stairs while sleepwalking. It seemed the most logical, and no one would question it. Hell, he probably kept the hospital in business with his broken bones over the past ten years.

 

Mrs. McCall had fussed over him the second she saw his state when he arrived, and after getting him a wheelchair, pinched one of his ears and one of Scott’s while scolding them about being out on a school night. She had also given a very stern look to Lydia and Kira, who both had looked down at the ground, suddenly interested in it’s pearly whiteness.

 

“Just because half of you have super healing, doesn’t mean you go looking for trouble.” She had hissed at them in a low enough voice that only they could hear her. Releasing their ears, she pushed the wheelchair forward, into an empty room. “What was it this time?” She demanded, taking her stethoscope off around her neck and putting it in her ears.

 

“Japanese creature.” Lydia stated simply and when Mrs. McCall raised an eyebrow, held up her hand. “Trust me. You don’t want to know any more.” Sighing and shaking her head, Mrs. McCall stared at Stiles.

 

“Does your dad know you’re here? Also, you’ll need an x-ray of that leg of yours. Blue cast like last time?” She walked over to the door and started to open it.

 

“Nah, I think I’ll have pink this time. I’m a manly man.” Stiles puffed out his chest before wincing. Immediately Scott was by his side leeching the pain away. Maybe he shouldn't attempt humor at the moment...

 

“I’ll give your dad a call.” With that, Scott’s mother left the room, closing the door quietly after her. The room fell silent after that, no one really in the mood to talk. Kira and Scott moved closer to each other until Scott’s arm was protectively wrapped around her waist and her head was resting on his shoulder. Lydia, on the other hand, had sat in the chair next to where Stiles and his wheelchair was parked. Her head was being held up by her hand. If anything it looked like she had dozed off, but Stiles knew better. She was just replaying the fight that had just happened and probably figuring out all the mistakes she had made. A frown grew on her face and Stiles nodded to himself at his correct assumption. Leaning back and sighing, he closed his eyes and just waited for either the doctor to arrive or his father.

 

With luck he didn’t know he had, it was the doctor first. And when he had come back, cast on and all, his father was waiting with Scott, Lydia, and Kira. His arms were crossed and his tan sheriff uniform was on. Stiles winced to himself at his lack of ability to remember his dad was on shift tonight. When their eyes met, Stiles gave off a pathetic smile with a shrug, causing his dad to just shake his head in, probably, relief.

 

An hour later, and after having sent Scott, Kira, and Lydia home with Mrs. McCall, Stiles was given crutches and discharged to his father's care.

 

“Really, Stiles?” His father asked in an exasperated tone. “Now are you going to tell me the real reason, ‘cause you can’t honestly expect me to believe that you fell down the stairs while sleepwalking. You’ve never sleepwalked a day in your life.”

 

“I think you mean ‘a night in your life’, and can this just wait till we get to the car please? People could overhear.” Stiles complained, resting a minute from moving around with the crutches before catching up to his dad.

 

“Is this about the kohem that you mentioned on your way out the door the other night?” Watching his father pull a confused face while trying to pronounce a Japanese word (and failing epically at it), had Stiles laughing under his breath.

 

“Yes, it’s about the Kiyohime. We—”

 

“I’m good. I don’t need to know details unless there’s another dead body.”

 

“She’s already buried.” Stiles quickly said, opening the passenger door when he got to his dad’s squad car. He struggled to get in for a second but got the hang of it.

 

“She—what?” Doing a fast backtrack, Stiles winced at how that sounded.

 

“Dad, you wouldn’t have been able to explain how a Japanese woman from four thousand years ago, ended up on the doorstep of Beacon Hills, California in perfect, one-hundred-percent, stunning condition with her last meal being a McBurger.” Somehow he managed to say that in one breath as his dad hopped into the drivers seat. There was a momentary pause.

 

“Fair enough…” Shaking his head, his father put the car into gear. “Let’s go home.” He said, pulling out of the hospital’s parking lot a few short minutes later, taking a left right away.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Five weeks later, Stiles nervously danced around the kitchen, and by danced, it’s meant as tapping his fingers on anything that was nearby, including the coffee maker near the window, as well as running a hand through his gel-styled hair.

 

It was the first date with Malia since he’s come back.

 

He had already brushed his teeth twice, changed outfits multiple times until he called Lydia in desperation, and took a shower, shaving his jawline twice just to make sure. Glancing at the clock, Stiles let out the breath he was holding. There was no reason for him to be nervous, right?

 

Looking at himself in the mirror that he recently hung in his bedroom, Stiles nodded to himself and took the keys off his desk. On his way out, his dad yelled at him to have fun and to behave. He laughed as he got into his jeep and drove to pick up Malia at her father’s place.

 

Stalling the jeep, and parking on the side of the street, Stiles nervously walked up to the front door, giving it two sharp knocks. When her father answered, he just gave out a disgruntled noise and disappeared, only to have Malia appear seconds later in a striped blue, fancy shirt and black leggings. Her hair was in a loose crown braid. In short, she looked absolutely stunning. There was a slight pause before he cleared his throat.

 

“Ready to go?” He held out an arm for her, which she gladly took.

 

“Let’s do this.” She smiled brightly at him. The entire car ride there, they held hands and listened to whatever was on the radio. There’d be plenty of time to talk at the restaurant.

 

“Table for two please.” Stiles held up two fingers in the peace sign to the waitress who was placing people at tables a few seconds after  they walked through the door. The woman nodded at them before grabbing two adult menu’s and ushering them to follow her. Placing his hand on Malia’s lower back, he motioned for her to go in front of him.

 

The waitress led them to a table for two that was right next to the window that overlooked the lake behind the restaurant. Smiling at the table set up, which included a candle in the middle that was burning brightly, Stiles took a step in front of Malia and pulled out her chair. Behind him, he heard someone complain.

 

“You never do that for me, Bryan.”

 

“If you acted more like a lady, than maybe I would.”

 

“Thank you.” Malia’s voice drew his attention back to his own table. Grinning, and adjusting his tie a little, he sat down across from Malia. Taking the menu’s from the waitress’s outstretched hand, he handed one to Malia, opening his own up as he did so.

 

“Can I get you two anything to drink?” Her voice was soft, and was somewhat high pitched. Looking over at Malia, Stiles found her staring right back and give him a small shoulder shrug.

 

“Yes,” He trailed off, his eyes hesitating to look away from Malia. “We would like two glasses of ménage à trois please.”

 

“Sir, that’s…” The waitress trailed off as Stiles pulled out his wallet. Flipping it open, he handed it to her to inspect. “You look young for twenty-two. Sorry.” She looked extremely guilty as she turned to Malia, who did the exact same thing. He waved a hand at her and smiled.

 

“Don’t worry, I get that all the time.” The waitress blushed and hurriedly walked away, leaving the two of them alone. “Hey.” Stiles grinned at Malia. “You look absolutely beautiful tonight. Just stunning.” Malia practically purred at the comment and preened in it, shyly nodding her head in gratitude. “So,” he clapped his hands together before picking up the menu, “what to eat?” Wiggling his eyebrows at her, Malia let out a laugh.

 

“It’s so much better seeing you do that in person than on webcam. Thank you for this Stiles.” Flushed, Stiles looked back down at the menu.

 

“What are you thinking of getting? I’ll probably get their classic spaghetti and get a side of fries or mashed potatoes.” Stiles hummed.

 

“I’ll get the same then.” Malia nodded, not even opening up her menu. “Besides the side. Potatoes just taste weird to be.” She wrinkled her nose at the thought. Setting his menu on top of hers, he pushed them to the side of the table, just in time for a waiter to walk up to their table with the bottle of wine.

 

“All ready to order?” He asked as he carefully poured the wine into each of their glasses before setting the bottle down on the table.

 

“Yes,” Stiles happily said, “two classic spaghettis, one with extra meatballs, and a side of fries please.” The waiter took a pad of paper out of his pocket and grabbed the pen hiding behind his ear, writing everything down, and leaving right after. “What do college do you think you’re going to? I can’t believe we’re seniors.”

 

“I’m not going to college.” Malia tilted her head, before shrugging and taking a sip of her wine. “Oh my gosh, this is delicious. What is this again?”

 

“Why aren’t you going to college?” He drank some of the wine and nodded in agreement. “Also, it’s called ménage à trois. It’s my favorite red wine, and the only red wine I’ll willingly drink. Everything else is too tart for me.”

 

“I’ll just work at the bookstore and coffee shop, like I’m doing now. And I don’t think I’d get into college, not after missing so many years of schooling. School isn’t for me anyways. You’ve seen me. I struggle in practically every class.”

 

“Except bio. You excelled in that class.” Stiles pointed out.

 

“Except bio, but I know animals.”

 

“Why don’t you become a biologist then?”


	13. Chapter 13

“Do you think I could?” There was a small hint of hope in Malia’s voice, and Stiles saw a flash of gold go through her eyes, fading quickly as her demeanor shifted. “No, I’d scare all the animals away.”

 

“Scott can help you get that under control. You’d be great at being a biologist! There’s a class at the community college, so if you don’t want to travel far from home, you can go there and work at the bookstore and coffee shop still. You’d still be around pack and you’d still be able to visit your dad. I can come visit you when I visit my dad too.”

 

“That’s right! Scott’s the vet assistant. Stiles, that’s a wonderful idea! Do you think I’d get a roommate? Do you think she’ll like me?” Her excitement caused both of them to laugh, and the food came shortly after they stopped. Malia looked at him in surprise when she was given the plate with the extra meatballs but didn’t question it as she dug in. Stiles on the other hand, immediately took a fry and shoved it in his mouth. It fell quiet between the two of them, enough that they could hear the couple at the other table arguing back and forth faintly at each other.

 

“So when can I meet your mother?” Malia blurted out, causing Stiles to pause in halfway in bringing the fork full of noodles up to his mouth. She didn’t seem to notice as she continued on. “I always see your dad, but never your mom and you never talk about her. Did she and your dad divorce? Does she live in a different state or country?” Carefully setting the fork down, he grabbed his napkin, folded it neatly, and placed it on the table.

 

“Actually—”

 

“I bet you look so much like her. I mean, you look a lot like your dad, but you don’t have his nose, and his smile is a bit different than yours. Plus your eye colours don’t match. I bet you anything though that you and her look exactly alike...well, except the gender thing, but you know what I mean. You always do.” Malia went on.

 

“Malia—”

 

“Is she nice? Will she like me?” She tugged on her shirt a little. “Will she teach me how to say your name in Polish? I remember you mentioning that Stiles is just a nickname for you because no one can properly say your first name.”

 

“Malia,” he said forcefully this time, finally getting her to stop. “She passed away when I was ten.”

 

“Oh.” Shock was drawn all over Malia’s face, her mouth dropping into a small ‘o’ shape. “Oh…” She said again, clearly embarrassed by her rambling. “I didn’t mean to—I mean—I’m sorry.” Stiles held out her hand and motioned for her to grab it. When she did, he squeezed it tightly for a second, trying to assure her.

 

“It’s alright. You didn’t know. But to answer your questions, I do look a lot like her, especially when she was a teenager. She would absolutely love you and probably show you all my baby photos and tell you all the worst stories about me. She’d most likely make you tea and have you over even when I’m not at home. And as for my name, it’s my grandma you’d have to ask to pronounce the entire thing, but my ma shortened it to Genim. I just go by Stiles because Genim is what she called me.” He squeezed her hand again. “It’s alright. I promise.”

 

All of a sudden, there was a loud shriek of outrage, the shattering of a glass, and a few people gasping.

 

“That’s it, Byran! We’re over!” The woman at the other table had dumped her glass of water all over, presumably, Bryan. “You’re such an ass, I don’t know why I kept with you all these years.” She huffed before stalking off in her high heels, causing a clicking noise to echo through the now silent restaurant.

 

“What are you all looking at?” Bryan hissed out, standing up and slapping his napkin down on the table, before swiftly walking after her. “Now Rose—”

 

“Sir, you need to pay for this.” A brave waiter spoke up, and when Bryan turned around a glared at him, didn’t back down. With a huff, he threw a couple of twenties it looked like at the ground before walking to the door and slamming it open. It took a moment, but then the restaurant slowly began buzzing again, probably with people speculating about what just happened. Shaking his head, Stiles turned and looked at Malia.

 

“The crazy things that happen…” He hummed, going back to his spaghetti.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Dropping Malia off at home, and receiving a peck on the cheek, Stiles drove home in a stupor. There was just something off. Malia’s kiss didn’t give him any sparks. It didn’t fuel him on. It didn’t make him feel giddy or drunk on happiness. It didn’t make him feel special and proud that she had chosen him. It was just, simply, a kiss. Throwing off his shoes after walking inside his house, Stiles turned on the kitchen light, and after seeing a note on the counter folded into a small tent, walked over to it.

 

Got called in. Sorry. Hope you two had fun.

Love you, Dad

 

Shaking his head and smiling, he took his phone out of his pocket and texted his dad goodnight. He yawned loudly and rubbed at his eyes. Tomorrow would be a busy day, and judging by the clock shining the numbers 10:47 at him, he better get to bed.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The bell rang above Stiles's head as he opened the glass door. Stepping inside, he was slightly surprised at how much the office had changed. Beforehand, it was just a plain looking waiting room with a door leading to the kennels and another leading to the expectation roo. Now, however, there were some updated magazines that rested on the waiting room table, and a fresh coat of paint, a creamy white with a dark red accent, was all around. There were two examination rooms, Stiles guessing one was for Scott after he gets done with his veterinary schooling. Getting closer, he smirked to himself as he felt the power pulsing through the wood surfaces. Mountain ash. Everything in this waiting room that resembled anything close to wood, seemed to be dipped in it.

 

“Stiles.” Deaton’s voice broke him out of his reverie, causing him to look up. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

 

“I want to know everything you know about having a spark, and what you meant by when you said I have one. I also,” Stiles cleared his throat, “would love if I could borrow your grimoire to get more knowledge on any other so-called-mythical-beasts that could possibly be attracted to Beacon Hill because of the Nemeton.”

 

“What else?” Deaton calmly responded, motioning Stiles to follow him to the back examination room.

 

“What—how’d you know?” He gaped at Deaton before shaking his head. “Nevermind that. I’ve been seeing things I think.” Stiles winced at the wording.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“The kiyohime had purple eyes, and every time she killed, she looked different to me. But to everyone else, she—”

 

“—looked the same.” Deaton finished his sentence thoughtfully, sitting down in a chair and waiting for Stiles to copy him. “You were in Hawaii this entire summer, yes?” Stiles nodded in agreement. “By chance, did you come across any runes of a sort or anything that would resemble a spell? I’m aware there’s a pack that lives down on the island chain.”

 

“There is a pack. Danny’s aunt knows all of them, and no, nothing that I remember.”

 

“Did you ever meet their emissary?” Deaton prodded, leaning forward slightly.

 

“Yeah, Miranda? She’s the tattoo artist and she does an amazing job. Let me tell you.” Stiles shook his head in admiration. “Her werewolf sight really helps her to hone in on some of the work she does.”  
  


“A tattoo artist you say? Did you happen to get one then?”

 

“Yeah.” he said, “took them a while to convince me though.

 

“Can I see it?” There was a sudden eagerness in Deaton’s voice, and Stiles shrugged before standing up and taking off his shirt. Holding up his arm, he pointed with his non-dominant hand at it. “Fascinating…” Deaton murmured, carefully prodding around it. “It seems, Stiles, that you’ve been blessed in more ways than one. You see, Miranda here did a fine job, really spectacular. Astonishing actually. She’s a werewolf and an emissary too?”

 

“Well, come to think of it, I don’t think she ever said. I just assumed. And what do you mean by blessed?”

 

“In writing, too small for the eye to see, unless it’s that of a fellow emissary or any sort of magic creature actually, there’s a sanctification in latin. I can’t make out all the words because of the twists and turns, but it seems,” Deaton turned his head sideways, “like she noticed you had the spark within you and used this tattoo to enhance it. Of course, it won’t hone in on all your could-be abilities, but certain ones that would, and will, protect your pack. You said you saw her differently when everyone else saw her as the same?” Stiles nodded, a bit in shock of what Miranda had seen and done for him without him even knowing. “She’s enhanced your masking abilities. Certain sparks,” Deaton walked into another room, leaving Stiles alone for a second, before walking back in with a book in his hand and him flipping through the pages, “are given the ability to see creatures despite how advanced their masking abilities are. If they had a ring that hid their true appearance, the spark would be able to see it, whereas others would see it for what the creature wants them to see, just like how the kiyohime hid her real self, and you saw through it. So fascinating…”

 

“You keep saying the word ‘spark’, what does that mean?”

 

“It means you have an ability that not many others have, and, if trained, could help make your pack stronger. I haven’t said anything since the kanima due to how busy the pack has been.”

 

“What does that mean?” Stiles questioned further, putting his shirt back on.

 

“It means, Stiles, that you can become an emissary. You have magic, in a sense, flowing through your veins. I purposefully gave you a lesser amount of mountain ash because I saw the possibility within you to achieve tapping into your spark. And you believed in yourself, and the mountain ash, in that moment, with the fierce protectiveness of saving your friends, and it worked. Your spark was electrocuted into working, creating enough mountain ash for you to finish the circle.” Stiles gaped at Deaton’s words. “Now, I have another customer coming in any minute now, and I’m sure you have more questions that I have the patience to answer at the moment. However,” Deaton firmly said, “I will lend you this grimoire and I want you to memorize it. By the time I call on you to come back in, I expect you to know all the creature in this book, their strengths, weaknesses, what they are capable of, everything. Understood?”

 

Shakily taking the book, still in a little shock of wonder, Stiles mumbled out a thanks and walked out of the room, building, and hopped into his car. “Scott’s gonna get a kick outta this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout Out to Vykki_Q for reading and commenting. Have to say I love it when you do so. Most of your comments make me laugh and nod my head in agreement.


	14. Chapter 14

“The score is ten to seven, with Beacon Hills down by three. Whittemore’s got the ball, and ooh! Body slammed by Wilkens. That’s the fourth time tonight that that’s happened!” Deep and low, the announcer's voice spread across the lacrosse field, rumbling over the loud noise of cheering from fans in the stands.

 

"Come on guys!" Jackson yelled out to his teammates, gripping his lacrosse stick tighter, his claws threatening to come out. Scott had made them all promise that no super-strength/agility would be used, which is totally unfair and ridiculous as Brett, from the other team is clearly using his. As if Brett could tell someone was thinking of him, he turned around and gave a smirk. In retaliation, Jackson just glares at him. No - werewolf powers is a joke, and definitely not a rule he’s going to listen to, not tonight. Not when they’re playing Devenford Prep.

 

Giving out a low growl, Jackson waved Isaac over. “We’re gonna kick Brett’s ass tonight, agreed?” Isaac looked at him hesitantly, not sure for a second on whether he should go against Scott’s orders, but a quick glance to where the Prep student was standing, and Isaac was nodding his head. “Cool.” Jackson held out his hand for a fist bump, which Isaac quickly returned. “Get Liam in on the idea. I don’t think it’ll take much convincing based off of that death glare.” He snorted before gripping his lacrosse stick and heading to the center circle, leaning down into position. Extending his hearing abilities out, he heard an affirmation from Liam just as the whistle blew.

 

Using the inhuman speed, he snatched up the ball, quickly passing the ball off to Liam, who somehow was already ahead of him. Grinning, he ran ahead, only to hear the announcer yell out about how jersey fourteen was side-tackled, causing a whistle to go off and everyone stopping in their positions. Looking over at Isaac, Jackson resisted running over. On the ground, hunched over, Isaac spat out blood on the turf grass. His lacrosse stick was a good seven feet away, and the other player was standing up, shrugging his shoulders.

 

“Sorry Ref, he came outta nowhere I swear. I didn’t see him.”

 

“Bullshit.” Isaac coughed out, leaning on one arm and shakily standing upright. “I was right in front of you when you were running. There’s no way you couldn’t have seen me.”

 

“Language.” The referee barked out at Isaac. “Two minute penalty to Devenford Prep seventy-three. One minute for number fourteen on foul language.”

 

“But-” The kid started protesting again, but the referee interrupted.

 

“Three minutes seventy-three, don’t make it four.”  A harsh glare was etched across the player's face as he heard the words, and was carried with him as he marched over to the time-out zone. Whereas Isaac just quietly walked over and sat down, patiently waiting for the timer to run out.

 

Nodding his head, Jackson turned his focus back to the game and as soon as the whistle was blown again, took off.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Alright folks, this is it. Because of the overtime, whichever team gets this next goal wins! Let’s hear it for Beacon Hills!” A loud rumbling came from the crowd stomping their feet, and almost overpowered the noise of the high-pitch whistle. In a flash, the guys took off, scrambling over the ball and prodding players from the other team with their stick.

 

“Stilinski!” On the side, Coach Finstock yelled out, waving at him to go into the game. “Take over for Greenburg. I’m either about to die from laughing or embarrassment!” Shaking his head, Stiles yelled out to the poor kid, and quickly took his place. He tried not to think too much of the sounds of Greenburg sobbing on the sideline. Rolling his eyes ever so dramatically, Stiles ran up to his starting position on attack.  

 

As soon as he did, the whistle blew and the fight for the ball began. Devenford Prep gained possession and took off towards their defense side. Side-arming his player in the ribs, Stiles elongated his steps to stay with the group, but as soon as the ball crossed the line, he backed up to the middle of the field, taking small side steps to the left and right to keep moving. He heard a huff from the player guarding him but ignored it and kept shuffling. “Come on defense!” Stiles bellowed out. Just as he said it, Brett shoved Jackson, who being as overly dramatic as he always is, fell over, crying out in faux pain. The ball is overturned in the moment of hesitation and is immediately being thrown up the field his way.

 

Running towards the goal, he put his lacrosse stick up in the air. Wrapping around the goalie, his defense player dropping him, Stiles cut in front of the goal and shouted that he was open. Isaac, who currently had the ball, didn’t pass it and Stiles cut through the center all the way, going for another attempt to loop through. The white rubber ball was thrown to Jackson, who passed it off to Liam. “Liam!” He yelled out again.

 

And then the whistle blew. There was a lot of screaming...no cheering, and he was hoisted up on Jackson’s and Isaac’s shoulders. Nailed it, he thought as a full blown grin covered his face. Scott jumped up and gave him a high five. Giving a quick glance over to the sidelines, Coach was throwing down his clipboard and yelling out something that wasn’t audible. Lydia, Mason, and Malia were jumping up and down, hugging each other. Nodding his head towards them, he suddenly had the feeling that eyes were on him. Looking around, towards where the woods are, he stared at the figure who was clapping. He gave a hesitant nod and smile towards Derek, only to be surprised when he was dropped back down to ground level.

 

“Good job Stilinski.” Jackson gruffed out, giving him a clap on the back before walking off towards Lydia and pecking her on the cheek.

 

“I knew you had it in you, Stilinski!” Coach yelled out, wrapping him in a tight hug, squeezing the breath out of him. “I knew you had it in you son! What’d I always say? Stilinski’s the best man for the job!” He went back on a rant as everyone rolled their eyes at the over-dramaticness the Coach was blurting out.

 

“Pizza after we change?” Scott threw his arm around his shoulder.

 

“Of course. Meet at the pizzeria in 10?”

 

“Definitely.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

All of them slid into the corner booth, trying to fit all ten of them; Kira, Scott, Stiles, Malia, Isaac, Jackson, Lydia, Mason, Liam, and Danny. While they were finishing up their own individual conversations, the waitress, of the name Debbie, came up to them. She had long brown hair tied back in a ponytail, with freckles speckles all over her cheeks. The uniform fit her loosely and she looked a little nervous, so most likely her first day on the job or first time getting a large group that they were. Clearing her throat, she captured the attention of the table.

 

“What would you guys like to drink?” Her voice was small and quiet, but it still seemed to project fairly well.

 

“Could we get a pitcher of sprite, water, and…” Stiles glanced around the table, on to receive several shrugs. “...a coke, please?” She scribbled down the order before handing out the menus that had been carefully tucked underneath her arm. “Thanks.” He said politely to her.

 

“Of course.” A smile spread across her face, maybe to the realization that they weren’t that impatient of a group, minus Jackson that is. “I’ll be right back then.” Promptly turning around, her hair making a soft swish noise, Debbie walked off. Stiles looked around the table to see Isaac still staring at Debbie, and a small snort tumbled out of his mouth, causing Lydia to narrow her eyes at him in question and for Isaac to turn around with flushed cheeks.

“What’s funny? I missed a joke didn’t I?” Lydia demanded at him.

 

“Nothing.” Stiles said quickly, but with the look Lydia gave him after that answer, and with everyone else’s attention suddenly hooked on him, he let out a sigh. “I was remembering something funny in Hawaii.”

 

“That’s right!” Isaac suddenly blurted out extremely loudly. “How was it? I haven’t heard anything ‘bout the trip. Were the people nice? Was the plane bumpy? Did you see any sea turtles? Or dolphins? Or-” Everyone laughed, and Isaac received a pat on the back from Jackson.

 

“One question at a time bud.”

 

“Here.” Pulling out his phone, he quickly unlocked it and pulled up the gallery app, scrolling down to the beginning of all the Hawaii photos. He attempted to pass it over to Isaac, but Lydia snatched it out of his hands, bringing it into her line of sight for her scrutiny.

 

“Did you climb up a volcano?” Mason looked over Lydia’s shoulder at the picture, back to him, back at the camera, and then back at him with his mouth agape.

 

“Well,” he scratched at the back of his neck awkwardly, “I only went up two-thirds of the way with Keanu and Akela, before the mountain shook and we hurried back down.”

 

“Is that the place you stayed at? Danny,” Lydia turned on the poor boy, “next time, I’m going. This is gorgeous. Especially with this view of the beach!” She scrolled through more photos before coming across a video. A sneaky grin lit her face up as she pressed play and turned up the volume.

 

******

 

“No, Stiles! Other way! Put your foot there. Keanu, stop laughing at the boy!” A girl’s voice rang through loud and clear, despite the backdrop sound of waves.

 

“Stiles, you’re gonna kill yourself, just stand still. It’s really not that hard. Oh my god…Akela, give me the camera to go help him.” Another girl, Haukea, came into view as the camera fumbled between the passing hands. When it came back into focus, it showed Stiles falling off in a less-than-classy manner. “Brad, Mason, hold the log till he gets on and can stand up. Keanu, Akela, help him. This is so hilarious.” It went on, showing Stiles climbing back up on this cut down tree and regaining balance. Without the go signal, Mason and Brad suddenly started shaking the log as Keanu and Akela backed up. “Stiles! Balance! It’s going to be rougher out on the waves when you don’t know what the waves are gonna do. This is easy peasy!” As soon as she said that, he flailed forward and onto the sand.

 

******

 

“You learned how to surf?” Scott asked this time.

 

“Yep!” Stiles said proudly. “I even got a trophy in the Junior competition surfing, third place.”

 

“Sweet dude!” They gave each other high-fives.

 

“What are you wearing?” Lydia criticized loudly, interrupting their bromance moment and  making everyone laugh when she showed everyone the photo.

 

“It’s a hula skirt.” Stiles argued. “They’re popular there, alright? It was meant to be a joke.”

 

“And what is that thing that’s black and has all those squiggly lines?” She threw her hands up and passed the phone off to Mason to scroll through the photos.

 

“A tattoo.” Scott blurted out, and when Stiles gave him a look, just shrugged his shoulders. “They would’ve found out anyway dude. Besides, now you got bragging rights.”

 

“Wait, Stilinski was actually able to stand the needles?” Jackson scoffed.

 

“Twice.” Scott said proudly, giving Stiles a joking punch to the shoulder. “We went and got one a few weekends ago when he got back.”

 

“I’m more curious about the stories you have.” Danny interceded. “I know there’s a few good ones I know.” As he finished talking, Debbie was back carrying four pitchers, two of sprite, and the rest as ordered. When she was done passing them out, she wiped her hands on her apron, before pulling out her little notebook.

 

“The second sprite is on the house. Apparently the manager is a lacrosse fan, and said one of you scored the winning goal against his ‘enemy’, who is coincidentally the coach on the other team….who is it again?” She looked to be in deep concentration for a second before snapping her finger. “That’s right! Devenford Prep. Anyways, what would y’all like to eat?” In a hurried, but not overwhelming fashion, they all placed their order of pizza’s and stacked the menus to make it easier for her to carry them. “Alright, they’ll be out as soon as possible.” A chorus of thanks rang out after her.

 

“Stories.” Malia promptly stated, leaning on her boyfriend’s shoulder.

 

“Right! So do you guys want to hear about cliff diving, fishing at night, crab fighting, or snorkeling?”

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

“Hey Mrs. Mccall.” Stiles nodded his head, letting out a wild grin, and waved with three fingers in a halfway salute. The woman raised an eyebrow and nodded at him.

 

“What are you doing here?” She questioned him, holding the folders in her hands a little tighter.

 

“What? Can’t I say hi to my second mom?” Stiles joked out, and after her eyebrow raised a little higher, he let out a sigh. “You’re eyebrow is going to be at your hairline if you continue doing that. I just, I needed some advice.” He admitted, nervously tapping his fingers against his backpack’s strap.

 

“And you couldn’t come over when I was home?” Mrs. McCall relaxed her face and motioned for him to follow her.

 

“Not really,” Stiles let out a laugh-like scoff. “Scott has super hearing and I really don’t want him listening in to everything I say to everyone else. He already does that at school, even though he won’t admit to it.” Mrs. McCall sighed and nodded her head, waving her hand for him to follow. Making an immediate left, they made their way through the hospital hall, and ended up in an empty room. As soon as Mrs. McCall close the door behind her, she turned to look at him. Suddenly self-conscious, he looked around the room at all the art hanging on the wall. As patient as ever, Mrs. McCall took her time and waited for him to be alright and in the mood to explain what the sudden visit was about.

 

“ I still love Derek.” He blurted out,  waving his hands wildly. And then he was rambling. “I tried to not like him, and it’s not that I don’t like Malia, because I do, she can be a little crass sometimes, but she’s upfront about things, expect that it’s-”

 

“Not the same.” Mrs. McCall calmly finished his sentence for him. Numbly, he nodded, letting his hands fall at his side. “Stiles, here. Sit down.” Stiles complied and sat on the hospital bed, facing away from the door. “I could’ve told you that you still liked Derek.” She admitted, and put her hand up when he opened his mouth to interrupt. “You don’t get over what the two of you had, not that quick, and not that easily. Stiles…” Mrs. McCall trailed off with a mix of frustration and unsureness painted on her face. It looked like she was debating with herself on something, and patiently he waited to see what won out. A few seconds later, and Stiles got his answer.

 

“I shouldn’t be telling you this, but…” She trailed off again, but composed herself quickly and continued. “He wouldn’t let himself heal after you left. The bones in his hands shattered and he gave the excuse of slamming a hammer on top of it, but he couldn’t fool me. Maybe all the other doctors and nurses in this place, but not me. I know what punching a wall, in this case a rock is more likely, looks like and does to a hand.” Her eyes darkened slightly and a sickened feeling crosse over Stiles and he realized she was remembering being married to that asshole. “You and me know fully well that he didn’t even need to come to the hospital. He could’ve just let it heal with no medical record of it. But he came in and got a cast, a blue one at that, and then came to every check-up after that. That man loved, and still does loves, you. So much that he gave up on his supernatural healing over the guilt he felt after losing you.” She watched as Stiles let different emotions cross his face at rapid fire.

 

“I knew a little.” He admitted. “Lydia had told me some of it, but I didn’t know how bad it was.” Stiles glanced up at her in time to see her flinch. “What?” He demanded.

 

“There’s a little more to it than that.” She hesitantly said.

 

“What do you mean?” Swallowing, causing his adam’s apple to bob, he stared up at her.

 

“When I say he was a mess, I mean, he was a mess.” She stressed the word out. “Lydia had taken him into her house to keep an eye on him. It got to the point where Lydia had to practically force-feed him because he was so depressed and refused to eat. He drank from time to time too, and I begged Lydia to take him to the hospital, but, I hate that she can be so convincing at times…” At that, Stiles let out a wry, broken laugh.

 

“Yeah, she’s good at that.” He shook his head and stared down at his hands. A quiet sigh happened and suddenly she was bending down in front of him, taking his hands into her own, and giving them a small squeeze to let him know she was there.

 

“What I’m trying to tell you here is that he wouldn’t have done anything of the sort if he didn’t care about you.”

 

“I know.” Stiles said softly. “What made him snap back?” To that, he received a shrug.

 

"I'm not sure. One week he looked like death warmed over, and the next he was back to looking like a normal 23-year-old man." She looked deeply into his eyes, and he turned to not see his reflection in then. At this point, he knew his eyes were red and his cheeks blotchy from crying. He never truly realized that at some level, he meant that much to Derek.

 

“I was bad too.” Stiles whispered out, barely making a sound. “The first two weeks I was there, I cried a lot and got insanely drunk a few times. I’m still surprised my dad didn’t allow the police there to arrest me. I honestly can’t believe that we weren’t kicked out. It got to the point that I almost killed myself from jumping into the ocean at dusk, which is how I met Keanu. He had jumped in and pulled me out. Someone, Akela, saw me jump in and there apparently had been a search party out for me among a few people because I wasn’t responding to any calls or texts. But after that, I kind of just broke. When I got back to Danny’s aunt’s house, I was apologizing profusely. I just…” Closing his eyes, he didn’t want to see her reaction to what he was saying.

 

“By the time my dad left, which was two days after the incident, I was getting better. Turns out that Keanu was part of the wolf pack there and they kind of adopted me. They became my pack while I was there. I mean, part of it was because my dad wanted to know I was safe, but they really did help me to get better. And Malia and I started dating practically a week before I came back home. I had my dad send me my old homework for the huge, end of the summer bonfire. Her number fell out of one of my papers and we started talking. Lydia knew about everything that was happening.  Scott...I think he just wanted to give me some space so we didn’t talk as often.”

 

“You two are the only two people I know of that could go months without talking or seeing eachother, and never miss a beat in your friendship when you get back together.” Her voice sounded so far away, and yet so close and comforting. Giving out a soft sigh, Stiles turned back and faced her. Almost immediately, she moved to wipe the tears falling down his face. Sniffling, he let out a dry laugh.

 

“I’m such a girl right now.” He joked, and she rolled her eyes at him, before standing up, putting her arms out, and signalling him to hug her. In a heartbeat, he wrapped his arms around her, snuggling into her shoulder. “Thanks, mom.”

 

“You’re welcome.” Mrs. McCall rubbed circles on his back. “You can always come to me, you know that. Now…” She pulled away. “Go get him, and go be honest with Malia. She deserves to know just as much as you deserve to let the truth out. Okay?”

 

“Okay.” He nodded his head.

 

“Good, now get! I have patients that require my attention.” With that, she was pushing him out the door and out of the hospital, shooing him the entire time.

 

 

* * *

 

 

So he lost his nerve the first few times he saw Malia. But it certainly didn’t help that Malia was suddenly avoiding him. She would, in the one class he had with her, quickly partner up with another person whenever the project called for it. It caused a couple of confused looks between their classmates, but everyone shrugged it off. Thus when the opportunity came, he took it before he could chicken out at the last second.

 

In front of him, she was walking with her head focused on the direction in front. When he called out her name, Malia gave him a nervous side eye, before trying to hurry off. Running, leaving Scott behind, he easily caught up to her and grabbed the side of her arm. Yanking her arm gently as to not hurt her, but to ensure his grip, and Stiles dragged Malia into a neighboring, empty classroom. This had to stop, whatever this was.

 

“What’s going on, Malia? You just stopped talking to me, and don’t even try to deny avoiding me at school. You switched seats so you wouldn’t have to sit in front of me. Now please just tell me what’s wrong.” Stiles argued out, rounding on her as soon as he closed the door behind him before collapsing against the wooden door in an overwhelm of emotions.

 

“Stiles, I’m dating Isaac now.” Malia blurted out. “I didn’t know how to tell you.” Despite the most of the strong feelings he had once thought he had felt for her were gone, his eyes still stung with tears. But he held them back. Personally, Stiles didn’t know whether it was out of relief of not having to break the news himself, or if it was because of all the guilt he had felt for not liking her like he knew he should’ve. “And Stiles, please make-up with Derek.”

 

“What do you mean?” He swallowed, his adam’s apple visibly moving.

 

“The hotel. I could smell it on both of you, and to be honest, I kind of view you as more as a sibling.” She admitted.

 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Stiles dubiously questioned.

 

“Because, Stiles, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, believe it or not. And I wasn’t fully ready to let you go yet. I still felt insanely protective over you. But Derek kissing you made me think really hard about our relationship, and what I want for you and for myself.” Malia admitted. “I think I jumped too quickly into this and I know I can be really pushy, so I’m sorry if that’s part of the reason you said yes.”

 

“It’s not.” Stiles interrupted, giving a soft smile at her. “Trust me, it’s not why I said yes.” Hesitantly, Malia nodded at him.

 

“Anyways, you need to go get your man, and I need to explore just a little more I think. I need to be able to know my options, and know what’s out there.” Malia finished strongly, before standing up from her seat beside him. She missed the flinch he gave at her wording but the point she meant to make still made it across. “Can we still be friends? Please?”

 

“Of course.” Stiles reassured her. Satisfied with that, Malia nodded and walked out of the room, and out of the recently strained relationship they had been in. Almost immediately, Stiles could feel the effects. He was free. He didn’t need to harbor guilt anymore of liking Derek. He didn’t need to beat himself up about it for being more gay than straight. He didn’t need to stay up late at night with thoughts about what Malia would say because he already has the answer. The air around him was suddenly filled with oxygen and he could breathe.

 

Sliding down the wall, he spread out but kept his legs in a pretzel formation, Stiles closed his eyes. He was free, which meant he was available.

 

Suddenly a sickened feeling hit him, and he forced himself to not double over. What if Derek didn’t want him back? What if the kiss was just a ruse to break him and Malia up because he didn’t want them to be happy? What if it was all just a game? What if- He forced his mind to stop. Any more and he’d be throwing up from nervousness or he’d induce an anxiety attack that was definitely not needed right now.

 

Letting a sound fall from his lips, Stiles shoved himself to his feet. Quite obviously now wasn’t the time to go talk to Derek, not with his dad monitoring his school attendance no matter how much he swears he isn’t. No, but it’s a good time to talk to Scott. He winced at the thought, vividly remembering the moment at the motel when Scott yelled at him. So maybe he should wait until after school. Mentally, Stiles knows that Scott will understand, but in the instance that Scott’s overprotectiveness kicks in, there’s less of a scene made.

Giving out a sigh of relief, Stiles walked out of the room, only to walk smack dab into Lydia. She didn’t even look surprised when she looked up at him.

 

“I take it you told her.” It wasn’t a question, a statement that left no room for argument was more like it. She gave him a look over, and before he could even confirm what she already knew, Lydia talked again. “Good.” Then, turning on her heel (which it appeared to be a platform stiletto day), she walked away, her strawberry blonde curls bouncing with each step she took.

 

 

* * *

 

 

After that, it was just running into Scott that mattered. Astonishingly, this year left them with only lunch together, so if he couldn’t find his best friend till then, at least they’ll see each other eventually. By the time lunch had come around, he was nervous and had practiced what, and how, he was going to word everything. Quickly (not) moving through the hot lunch line, he hurriedly walked to the table, making his presence known by clearing his throat.

 

“Stiles! There you are.” Scott stopped his peppering of kisses on Kira’s cheeks. Stiles wrinkled his nose in mock disgust, because truthfully, it doesn’t even bother him anymore with how often he sees them do it.

 

“Here I am. Listen, we need to talk. Meet up at your house after school?” When Stiles finished, Scott looked at him protectively.

 

“Does this have anything to do with Malia making out with Isaac? Because trust me, I never want to see that again and I’m happy they got busted.”

 

“Dude, I see you two making out all the time.” Stiles motioned to Kira and Scott. Kira looked at him proudly, with no shame at all, whereas Scott had blushed furiously. “And I didn’t need the imagery bud o'mine, but kind of, yeah.”

 

“Then of course. Come over for dinner. My mom’s going to be home.” Scott said in the most serious voice Stiles’s thinks he’s heard in a long time. Then Scott, being himself, reached out and patted Stiles’s hand in a way that if no one knew they were best friends, would assume they were in love with each other. Laughing, Stiles drew his hand away and began eating. Soon after, the discussion dissolved into ranting about teachers and once Lydia joined in, the conversation took a turn towards fashion and which freshman she recently destroyed in a debate.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Honey, I’m home!” Stiles’s voice cracked as he walked into the house.

 

“I’m not your honey Stiles.” Mrs. McCall’s chastising voice responded from the kitchen. Grinning he threw his backpack down on the couch and walked in by her.

 

“Oh my god…” He breathed in the aroma that was wavering in the kitchen. “It smells so good in here ma…” She turned and looked at him, letting a small smile slip across her face and shaking her head in amusement. Stiles, being mindful of her being next to the stove, walked up right behind her and hugged her from the side.

 

“How was school? Didn’t skip did you? I hope you know your dad complains to me all to time whenever you and Scott thinks it’s a good idea to leave when you guys feel like it.” Though he couldn’t see her face, Stiles just knew her left eyebrow was raised in question.

 

“Me? Skip school?” He mocked hurt before actually answering her question. “It was boring. Not much happened. Although…” Stiles hummed. “This kid, Evan, put a whoopee cushion on Harris’s chair. You should’ve seen his face! It was turning purple from anger or embarrassment. Best part too, is that the entire grade was mass texted a video of it happening.”

 

“How’d you know it was Evan?”

 

“Idiot left his name on the thing. A year’s worth of detention.”

 

“Ouch.” Mrs. McCall didn’t sound too sympathetic on the manner. “Send me the video though? I’d love to see that man get a prank pulled on him.”

 

“Sure thing, ma!” Stiles whipped out his cell phone.

 

“Stiles,” the sound of Mrs. McCall’s voice had him looking up at her.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Are you...okay with calling me mom? I mean, you’ve been calling me it, but-”

 

“You’re just as much a mother to me as she was. If it’s making you uncomfortable, I can sto-”

 

“No, no!” She protested and her face relaxed into an easygoing smile. “I don’t mind at all, and you’re a second son to me anyways. Now shoo! Go find Scott. He should be upstairs, maybe in the shower. Hope you’re okay with jambalaya for supper.” Stiles didn’t answer her as he grabbed his backpack off the couch and headed upstairs. He knew she knew he’d be fine with it.

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

“Where’d I put that spatula...damn it, I thought I put it away. Scott!” Mrs. McCall’s voice called up to where they were currently sprawled out on Scott’s bed. Stiles let out a loud laugh when Scott looked helplessly at him and gave out a sigh.

 

“How should I know?”

 

“Don’t know, bro.” Stiles reached over and patted Scott on the shoulder. “You cooking would result in the fire department coming over.”

 

“Yeah, no kidding.” Scott stuck his tongue out but rolled off the bed soon after. “Guess I should go help her.”

 

“Nevermind!” Melissa called up just as he was walking out the door. As casually as possible, Scott backed up into the room, closing the door while he was at it.

 

“So why was Malia and Isaac kissing?” Scott blurted out when he sat back down on the bed. His body was thrumming with anxiousness, and most clearly he was curious as to the answer. But when it came out so callous, Scott flinched. “Sorry man. Didn’t mean it like that.”

 

“Because we broke up.” Throwing the statement out there, Stiles leaned back on his arms until his elbows locked. His plaid red shirt fell loosely onto the bed as he kicked off his shoes. On his way in, he had thrown his backpack somewhere near the desk.

 

“Why?” Scott had a stupendous look on his face. “You guys looked happy together.”

 

“Because she liked Isaac and…” He swallowed, and looked anywhere but at Scott, refusing to make eye contact. “And I still like Derek and she could tell. She didn’t want to hold me back.”

 

“You….what?”

 

“I still like Derek.” Stiles said slowly, completely unsure as to how to phrase it. But then he repeated the statement. More confident and he lifted his head up to look at Scott in the eyes. “I like Derek. I never truly stopped.” Admitting it to himself made a weight he didn’t know he was carrying lift up off his shoulders, and he felt nothing but relief and a long held exhaustion of carrying it disappear.

 

“But—after what he did...you left. He was out of touch for a month.Why?”

 

“You know how you liked Allison? No matter what happened? Despite her turning on us for a few minutes and her shooting Isaac? Despite her being with Isaac? You loved her unconditionally, and I like Derek that way. I...I love him and I never stopped. I got hurt, and I over-reacted, and I left like a coward because I didn’t want to face him, or face the words that were said. I was immature and I’m better now. And Malia...I do love her, She’s an amazing person, but I love her more like a sister, and I didn’t want to admit the feelings I had for Derek were still there.” Finishing the long narrative, the two teenagers sat in a momentary silence.

 

“Like Allison?” Scott’s voice was hoarse at saying her name but at best, there was not stutter like there had been in the past. Nodding, Stiles looked down at his fingers and counted them.

 

“Like Allison.” He confirmed it.

 

“Damn.” Scott whistled lowly, before spreading his arms and laying back in a star shaped manner. “Now what?” Shrugging, Stiles laid back too, his hands resting on his stomach.

 

“I don’t know, man. I have no clue.”

  
  


 

* * *

 

  
  


“I’m so sorry about this Mr. Stilinski. I have no idea how they could’ve gotten in my room.” Lydia’s apologetic voice woke Stiles up. Startled, he almost fell off the couch. Barely catching himself, Stiles stood up as if nothing happened and ignored the nausea that came from doing it. Both Lydia and his dad looked at him in surprise.

 

“Hey Stiles.” Lydia said at the exact same time his father asked what he was doing on the couch. He shrugged.

 

“Hey Lydia. An I must’ve fallen asleep. Can’t remember. I got home from Scott’s pretty late.”

 

“I thought you were sleeping over. That would explain why all Melissa’s silverware is all over her yard.” His dad crossed his arms.

 

“No, we just needed to talk and work on some Spanish homework. Ms. Fetch is drowning us in homework. And what about Melissa’s silverware? That’s ridiculous.” Stiles yawned.

 

“Speaking of school…” Glancing at his watch, his dad looked at it and tapped on the glass. “I’ll call you in for first hour and say car trouble. You too Lydia. Just get to school somewhat on time?” He looked at the both of them, sighing as he did so. “Thanks Lydia. See you guys later.” And with that, his dad was out the door.

 

“No problem, and thanks Sheriff.” Lydia called out after him before doing the classic heel turn and staring at Stiles.

 

“Sure…” Stiles said slowly. “I’ll just have to get dressed. Why are you even over? I didn’t hear you come in.”

 

“For some reason, and trust me, I don’t understand it myself because of how odd it is. But I found your dad’s squad keys on my dresser. I asked my mom to drop me off on her way to work and said you were going to drive me to school.” Lydia explained, walking over and sitting down in the navy blue armchair.

 

“You found the squad keys? Wha— that’s just so ridiculous. But thanks. Dad’s getting to the age where his memory is getting a little fuzzy, so you prevented a huge panic this morning.”

 

“Glad to be of assistance, and your dad would shoot you if he heard you say that. Now go change. It takes twenty minutes to get to Starbucks. You’re paying.”

 

“Of course.” Stiles smirked. They did this every Friday as it was. The school, to be frank, didn’t care because they both had study hall first hour. So long as they both showed up for their fundamental classes, the school was alright.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I’d like a caramel macchiato and a white chocolate mocha please. Both mediums.” Stiles took out his credit card and slid it, accepting the high coffee price without a second glance. “The name is Martin.” He used her last name, simply because it was shorter, and there wouldn’t be any spelling mistakes or questioning looks, though he’s sure by now he didn’t have to mention any name. They probably had the two’s orders memorized. But still, out of a courtesy, he still said it.

 

“-Stiles?” Lydia’s impatient voice cut through his concentration.

 

“Yeah?” He turned around to face her, keeping his body still facing towards the counter.

 

“I’m asking you what your thoughts are on painting my room. You’ve seen it a few times already, and I’m growing tired of the dark pink. I need something more sophisticated this time.” She hummed, pulling out her phone. “Oh, and of course you’ll be helping me paint it.” She casually stated as she typed away. He made a noise in agreement, his eyes distracted by a short man waddling up to the counter.

 

At a rough guess, he was under five feet. Perhaps four foot three, so a legal midget. The clothes were stone gray, including a plain colour tie. If a wager had to be made about a job, a businessman would be the best guess. He was clearly overweight, and had a bald, shiny head, with a tattoo covering half of his face. It was a skull. Uncanny white, and with octopus tentacles in the background, curling around the left ear. For some reason, it made an uneasy feeling shiver it’s way down Stiles’s spine, but he tossed it out of his mind as an excuse for the cold air conditioning (considering he had chosen to stand directly under the vent). But there was just something about the man that captivated his attention, and he felt himself being drawn to it. Under more scrutiny, he noted a thin, white scar that traveled down the back of the head, along where the spine would connect to the brainstem, before it disappeared under clothes.

 

“Nice tattoo.” Stiles let out a low  whistle, but before he could examine the details of it any farther, a glare was sent his way by the man, and Lydia punched him in the shoulder. He let out a small, completely unmanly yelp, before giving a motioning ‘what’ gesture at her, his attention brought back to her. She rolled her eyes and she didn’t have to mutter a word for him to know they needed to get their coffee and leave. When her last name was called out, he quickly grabbed both of them, blatantly ignoring the man’s eyes drilling a hole in the back of his head, and walked out with Lydia holding his arm.

 

“You feeling alright?” Lydia asked once they situated themselves in his jeep.

 

“Yeah. Why?” He fumbled the keys out of his pocket like he usually did.

 

“Well for starters, you gave me the mocha and secondly, the man didn’t have a tattoo. Not one I could see, and unless you developed a certain type of vision that would allow you to see underneath clothes…” She trailed off, leaving the statement open. In a panic, he looked at the Starbucks cup in his cup holder and saw that it was the macchiato.

 

“Oh my God, please switch. You know I can’t stand that taste.” Hurriedly, he leaned over and grabbed his mocha from her hands, taking a sip and relaxing into the back of his chair. “Much better. And he did have a tattoo. It was on the left side of his face. Maybe you were at the wrong angle.”

 

“Stiles, don’t try that with me. I was at the perfect angle to get the entirety of him and I saw no tattoo. Are you running a fever?” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her narrowing her eyebrows at him. “You know that you need to take care of yourself too. How many Adderall's have you had today? You’re not taking an overdose, are you? Because you can’t concentrate one bit when you have that much of an intake, and if that’s the case, you’re not getting any coffee. I’ll hand it off to Isaac.”

 

“Lydia, I’m fine.” He gave off an exasperated sigh, and when she raised an eyebrow at him, he made a motion to himself. “Check me if you don’t believe me. And no. I’m not overdosing on Adderall right now. I took how much my doc prescribed.”

 

“I believe you.” Her voice suddenly gave a turn and it was more gentle. “Now, let’s get to AP Calculus. I doubt Ms.Fairwind would accept coffee as a late excuse unless we grabbed one for her.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Pack night!” Stiles whooped loudly as soon as the final bell rung, releasing the buses to go drop off the eager minded high schoolers who had yet to get a driving licence. He threw an arm around Scott’s shoulders, who in turn had his arm around Kira’s waist. Lydia was to next to him, holding Jackson’s hand. When the five of them all walked outside, they met up with Liam, Malia, Isaac, and Danny. Together, the squad walked towards their cars, which they all parked next to each other as some way of pack bonding. Though, they’d never admit it made them all feel better with being closer to each other even in the parking lot.

 

“Oi!” Jackson angrily yelled out, dropping Lydia’s hands. “Where the hell is my Porsche? I just got here a few minutes ago as it is. I swear to God I’m going to kill someone…” Just as Jackson dissolved into mutters of threats and promised bodily injury, Lydia’s phone started ringing, the song ‘Hungry Like The Wolf’ playing at full volume. Answering it, and holding it to her ear, she inspected her nails that she had undoubtedly had done recently.

 

“Wait, what?” Her hand dropped and her mouth opened in a small ‘o’ shape, before she looked incredulously at Jackson. “Thanks, Derek. I’ll let him know.” She said as she hung up. “Jackson, what the hell is your car doing on the other side of town?”

 

“What?” Jackson’s voice went so high and he looked like he was practically going to faint. If Stiles wasn’t trying to figure out how it happened, he would undoubtedly be videotaping the moment to forever share to embarrass Jackson.

 

“Relax, dude.” Stiles said. “I’ll give you a ride in my death trap. Everyone meet up at Scott’s at seven?” Most let out a noise of agreement or acknowledgement before taking off, leaving Lydia, Stiles, and Jackson left. “Let’s go get your car dude.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

About half-way through the chosen movie, Stiles stood up, and stretched. Walking into the kitchen, he took down a glass from the corner cabinet and poured himself a glass a water, taking a sip. Then, not wanting to miss any major scenes, went to stand in the doorway. As soon as he did, his eyes didn’t wander to the TV, but instead he looked over all the pack members.

 

In the love seat, Lydia was laying on top of Jackson’s chest, and Jackson’s thumb was seemingly moving unconsciously on Lydia’s shoulder. Danny was on the floor eating popcorn and sitting next to Kira, who in turn was curled up at Scott’s side, eyes focused on the movie. On the left side of the couch, closest to the door, and right behind Danny, sat Liam, who looked slightly uncomfortable sitting next to Isaac and Malia as they held hands. In the huge chair by himself that just so happened to be nearest to the kitchen, and overlooked the entire room, was Derek.

 

Stiles stared at him for maybe too long of a time, but he couldn’t help it. Derek had clearly trimmed what had been the beginning of a beard down to just stubble, and he undoubtedly looked hot. Or maybe that was just Stiles’s hormones kicking in. Yet, there Derek was, wearing a light grey henley, that showed off his arm muscles, and pants that looked tight. His classic leather jacket was on his lap, and his legs were in the four-formation, showing off the white socks that looked freshly bought. His whole demeanor had Stiles nearly dooling and a rush of nostalgia and self-deprivation came over him.

 

He lowered his eyes, just as Derek took his off the TV to glance at him. The pepper smell that the low self-esteem gave off and the orange-like scent of things past had hit his nose, almost causing him to sneeze. Staring at Stiles, Derek watched as he swirled the glass of water like a glass of whiskey would be warmed. And then the aroma was gone, and Stiles shook himself, before looking up and they were both blatantly staring at each other. Stiles’s mouth dropped open and he could feel himself going into fight-or-flight mode with what to do. His feet stayed still though. As did his eyes. Derek himself though, was captured by how the light was catching the amber colour that made up Stiles’s iris’s. He had no urge to turn away, or to avert his attention elsewhere.

 

The moment was broken, much to both’s dismay, as an arrow broke through the living room’s glass and Derek dodged out of the way for it to only nick him in the shoulder. Landing at Stiles’s feet, and everyone else’s attention caught, Derek let out a low growl, his fangs elongated and his eyes a brilliant shade of gold. Then it was silent. Someone had paused the movie, and they all stared at the arrow in the red armchair.

 

Stiles’s moved to step forward, but a deep sound emitted from Derek and he stopped instantaneously. Making a visual report instead of a physical one, Stiles held the arrow under scrutiny. It was long, with a sleek black paint on it. The feathers at the end matched the dark colour and appeared to be real. If he had to wager a guess, it would be a crow or raven given how dark the colour was. Calmly, Stiles gazed around the room to see Scott and Jackson all wolfed out and Kira had her sword by her side. They all held their breath, waiting for the end to drop.

 

As it did, the entire window shattered, and Stiles’s put his arms up on reflex for any glass to hit him, despite him being the farthest away. Taking them down seconds later at a loud roar, Stiles bit his tongue at the fact that Derek was in front of him, guarding him instinctively, as the others stood around what had entered. It was a short of statue figure, with a black, hooded cape on. It looked straight out of Lord Of The Rings, with a mixture of movie Aaragon and the body of a hobbit.

 

Once again, it fell silent. Nobody made a move. Probably because Scott gave no signal to attack and the thing, whatever it was, hadn’t really gone on offense. But then everything went to hell.

 

Whatever it was could create neon purple orbs, that once more looked straight out of a movie, and it sent them in directions of the pack members. As soon as the orbs were dodged, they attacked right back, only to be caught by surprise when two athames were pulled out of the cloak. In a karate like move, the creature jumped over Scott and Isaac, pushed Kira over, and dodged Jackson, to stand still in front of Derek. From behind, Malia moved to strike, but missed as it quickly moved out of it’s way, grabbed her wrist, and undoubtedly crushed all the bones in it.

 

Cradling her wrist and giving a howl of pain, Malia retreated to the corner where Danny and Lydia were standing out of the way.  

 

Derek lunged for the thing, and time seemed to slow down for a second, as a purple orb was sent Derek’s way and hit him right in the side. Dropping to the ground, Derek was out cold. From the two sides, Scott and Isaac came charging at it, only to be flung back from an invisible barrier. Isaac hit an old vase, shattering it, and hit his head on the back of a desk. Scott made a dent in the wall, and slid down it, getting back up slowly.

 

The thing, seemingly have no emotions, or a voice  of a sort, turned on Stiles. A terribly bad feeling flooded Stiles as he started at it. There was no visible face. Nothing but black cloth. As it geared up to attack Stiles, Stiles looked desperately around for something to defend himself, seeing nothing but his fists.

 

In a matter of seconds, Mrs. McCall scared the crap out of both Stiles and the creature as she came charging out from behind Stiles with a baseball bat and giving out a battle cry. She swung at it with full force, managing to knock an athame out of it’s hands, but not quick enough for it to dart forward, cut Stiles in a swift manner on the stomach, all before it started running back to the window which it came in from.

 

“Hey!” Isaac yelled out at the hooded figure. But it never hesitated nor stopped at the command, and jumped back out of the broken window.

 

“Scott!” Stiles’s worried, high-pitched voice came from the living room. “Call Deaton! We need his help.” Turning the corner, Isaac immediately saw Stiles at Derek’s side trying to shake him awake while successfully ignoring his own shirt becoming soaked in his blood. He succeeded a few minutes later, but Derek threw up the second his eyes were open, barely turning on his side in time. When he was done, he let out a low groan.

 

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. McCall.” Derek managed to get out before passing out again, Stiles catching his head in time before it hit the ground.

 

“Dont-” Melissa started to say, but stopped, though everyone knew she was going to brush it off. They all know she’s seen her fair share of puke at the hospital. “Scott, get Deaton.” She ended up repeating the order Stiles gave just a couple of moments before. Scott scrambled getting onto his feet, reaching out to the home phone and getting the vet on speed dial. And then it was just a matter of waiting.

 

In that time, Derek had finally managed to wake up but Stiles left no room for an argument when he full on demanded Derek lay on the couch and drink water. (It wasn’t mentioned it was the same glass of water Stiles had held beforehand.) But after that, he refused to talk to Derek and instead focused intensely on the front door awaiting the vet. Though everyone around rolled their eyes at the petulant behavior and averted their eyes from the scene, focusing on themselves or each other for other possible injuries. Mrs. McCall had gotten her stitching kit from the kitchen cabinet and began disinfecting the three-inch-long cut Stiles had received without any protest from Stiles himself.

 

“Start at the beginning.” Deaton smoothly requested as soon as he walked through the door, setting down his briefcase on the living room table, and pulling out a syringe, and giving Derek a shot. “It’ll counteract any magic that will affect memory, body system, or body function.”

 

“Tonight’s pack night.” Scott started.  
  


“And out of nowhere this short ninja broke through the window.” Jackson furrowed his eyebrows in anger.

 

“The second it touched the floor, and we were all in shock that we couldn’t move for a second, whoever it was started firing these round orbs of energy or something at us.” Kira joined in.

 

“And then, poof!” Isaac said. “It was gone. Jumped back out of the window. And when we saw Derek had been hit, we called you.” It went quiet, before Stiles spoke up.

 

“I think this may have to do with something this morning. I caught a glimpse of the ‘short ninja’ as Jackson put it, and it reminded me of something Lydia and I saw on our normal Friday morning coffee round. And there’s been some strange things happening too.”

 

“Explain.” Deaton monotonically said. Internally, Stiles was debating whether the man had emotions or not, or had any voice range.

 

“We saw — I mean, I saw someone at the local Starbucks joint this morning.” Stiles spoke up, clasping his hands together. “It was a man, roughly fifty, and definitely a legal midget. Overweight, had a tattoo on the side of his face. Lydia never saw it but I definitely did. And now all these strange things are happening. Things are disappearing and are relocating to different areas. I mean, Jackson’s Porsche was on the other side of town in the matter of ten minutes and it takes roughly half an hour to drive there. My dad’s keys for the squad were in Lydia’s house on her dresser, and Melissa’s silverware is spread across yards. And that’s not even half of it!” It was quiet after that, the entire pack watching the veterinarian druid contemplating.

 

“It sounds like it’s a duergar problem.” Deaton said calmly after a long time, staring down the pack group. “But I’d have to double check. They’re fairly common in the United States but they prefer to stick to the east coast. The west gets a little to warm for them. But like I said, I’ll use my connections to ask around. If there’s one, there’s more and it’s bound to be noticeable on their track over.”

 

Mrs. McCall turned around from her position at the doorway, resting the baseball bat on her shoulder and facing Deaton. Her eyes were wild with anger, and confusion. But mostly anger. Probably towards the misplacement of her kitchen utensils or maybe it was the completely shattered window, or maybe from something coming onto her turf to attack her son and her son’s pack.

 

“What...the ever-living fuck, is a duergar?”

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

“Mrs. McCall.” Deaton addressed her. “How is going at the moment?” He changed the topic so easily, like it was nothing more than an annoying fly that he gave up swatting at. 

 

“Work is work. I’m sure you understand. Answer the question.” Mrs. McCall narrowed her eyebrows at him, demanding her to be answered to. Deaton hesitated, looking at Scott, and opening his mouth a little. Stiles could practically see the wheels turning in Deaton’s brain.

 

“Deaton!” Mrs. McCall raised her voice.

 

“Why don’t…” Deaton slowly started, “we let this be a learning opportunity for Stiles to read the grimoire I gave to him?” Almost collectively, the group turned to stare at Stiles, and in that moment, he hated Deaton for not being direct with them. Sighing and readjusting himself, wincing as he did so, he stared blankly at Deaton, ignoring Derek’s fingers resting on the inside of his wrist and draining the pain away. It felt good and almost like he was high, and he wanted to sleep, but he powered through.

 

“I’ll have to look it up. I haven’t gotten very far yet.” Stiles picked up on a groan from Jackson and saw Lydia hit him. “Meet up tomorrow after school?”

 

“I have to work.” Malia said, directing everyone’s attention towards her. “I got a job? at the library?”

 

“That’s awesome!” Kira excitedly replied. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

 

“I don’t know...just didn’t seem important I guess.”

 

“Of course it is.” Lydia scoffed. “I’ll help you pick out an outfit.”

 

“Guys!” Jackson waved his hands. “Just got attacked? Remember?”

 

“We know.” Lydia glared at him. “But we have to celebrate the good things too, not just constantly worry about the bad.” There was a moment of silence before Scott cleared his throat. Stiles was getting progressively tired. He tried to pull his hand away, but he felt so weak it didn’t do anything.

 

“I...go….okay?” Scott’s voice went in and out. “Meetup…school. Derek’s…” 

 

“Sounds good.” Stiles wanted to slur the words together and gave into closing his eyes. The last thing he heard as he fell into a deep sleep is a voice saying they’d take Stiles home.

 

Groaning, Stiles stretched, arching his back, and opened his eyes. Almost immediately he could tell he wasn’t in his room. To start off, the walls weren’t blue, and he could smell pancakes. His dad never cooks. Last time, the fire department had been called.

 

The room he was in though, was comfortable, with soft forest green walls and other earthly tones, and a modern theme. Probably Isaac no doubt. As much as Isaac tried to hide it, Stiles knew how much he liked to interior design and bake, just make food in general really.

 

Yawning, he threw the covers off of him and moved to sit up, letting out a small cry when a sharp pain came from his stomach. Grumbling to himself, Stiles looked around the room. Quite strangely, there was a chair pulled up next to the bed with a woven blanket tossed over the back. Before he could dwell on it, the door came flying open with a bang.

 

They stared at each other; Stiles with wide eyes and Derek frozen in a mid-run position. Stiles’s mouth dropped open in shock and surprise. Derek looked like he was trying to find something to say, but was at a loss for words.

“Um…” Stiles hummed, trying desperately to break the silence, “new digs?”

 

“Ah…” Derek looked as awkward as Stiles felt, “just redecorated the loft. Thought a change would be good?” Derek stood up straight and looked around, avoiding Stiles’s eyes.

 

“Sweet. Looks good man.” Stiles commented, also avoiding eye contact. When it was starting to get awkward again, he blurted out what was on his mind. “Pancakes?” Derek looked at him and all of a sudden they were laughing. Maybe it was how squeaky Stiles’s voice came out or just the situation in general. Five minutes later, when the laughter had subsided, Derek nodded. 

 

“Pancakes are downstairs. There’s maple syrup or raspberry syrup. Wasn’t sure which one you’d be in the mood for. You’re dad knows you’re here, and he called you in for school.” At the mention of his father, Stiles looked around for his phone, to find it charging on the nearby table.

 

“Thanks, Derek.” It hurt to swallow.

 

“Yeah, no problem. Ah...your dad dropped off a duffel bag with some clothes and the shower is right down the hall if you want to clean up. And Melissa said your bandage is gonna need changing, just in case, and if you want, if you feel comfortable, I…” Derek was rambling.

 

“It’s okay.” Stiles said, rubbing the back of his neck. “If I need help, I’ll call you.”

 

“Good. Okay. All right then. I’ll just, you know,” Derek pointed behind him. “I’ll just go wait in the kitchen, yeah.” Derek grabbed the door handle and closed it hurriedly but made sure it didn’t slam.

 

Letting out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding, Stiles took several deep inhales and long exhales. He reached over and took his phone of the charger. Turning it on, he had several messages from his dad alone.

 

**10:35pm**

**Derek called. Be safe.**

 

**5:27am**

**Calling you in. Sleep.**

 

**5:40am**

**Derek said you’re still sleeping. I’m dropping off a bag of clothes.**

 

**5:42am**

**We will talk about your room.**

 

**6:30am**

**Starting my shift. Message when you wake up.**

 

**9:17am**

**Still not up? I’m eating subway. Being healthy *upset***

 

**10:05am**

**I’m glad I called you in. Message me. I told Derek to make pancakes. He was up all night so be good.**

 

Glancing at the time, he saw that it was only twenty or so minutes after the last message. He texted back as fast as his fingers allowed him to move.

 

**10:27am**

**I’m up. Pancakes smell good. Subway is good (: Derek stayed up? Why? My room is fine, the floor just isn’t visible.**

 

Setting his phone back down, Stiles moved as slow as a sloth to the duffel bag, not wanting to irritate the scratch any more than he already had this morning. He pulled out a pair of pants and his batman t-shirt. His dad, while remembering underwear, forgot socks. Staring at the dresser near the window, he looked down at his cold feet before making a decision. Stiles walked across the room in four long strides. Like last year, Derek still kept his socks in the top drawer. Shifting through them, he paused. His face stared back at him with a wide smile, eyes twinkling in joy. He set down the pair of socks he had grabbed and picked up the picture frame.

 

It was of Derek and him, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember when the picture was taken or where. He was clearly laughing, and Derek was also wearing a smile. He wanted to stare at it longer, but the sudden fear and anxiety that he found something he wasn’t supposed to see struck him, and he covered it back up with other socks. Picking the white pair of socks up from before, he closed the drawer and quickly got dressed. When he finished, he ran a hand through his unkempt hair, trying to tame it, while walking back over to where his phone was.

 

**10:36am**

**Good to hear. We’ll talk about cleanliness when you get back. You shouldn’t have to ask that. Don’t be a bother. Love you.**

 

As he began typing out a response on how it didn’t make any sense, his phone vibrated with more texts. The one from Scott read:

 

**10:37am**

**Derik said ur awke. gd 2 hear bro! Meat l8r @ ur hse?**

 

The spelling errors and text talk killed him on the inside but Stiles shook his head at the classic Scott.

 

The next was from Lydia.

 

**10:37am**

**Dad said you woke up. Glad to hear. You worried everyone the way you passed out. Especially Derek. By the way, Derek doesn’t like maple syrup… ;)**

 

If what his dad was talking about didn’t make sense, Lydia’s text was in a different language completely. Derek was just the logical choice. None of them could afford to miss school. Mrs. McCall and his dad work. Derek is the odd one out. Shaking his head, ignoring the picture in the socks drawer, the staying up all night, the syrup...Stiles read the rest of the texts.

 

**10:38am**

**:) Happy to hear you’re up. -Isaac**

 

**10:27am**

**Morning -Malia**

 

**10:37am**

**I grabbed your homework. -Firefox**

 

Letting a little chuckle out at Kira’s nickname, he sent out a group text saying he was fine and he’ll see everyone later. Then, the remembrance of taking a shower came to him and he felt stupid for already putting clean clothes on. Groaning in disappointment, Stiles went into the adjoining bathroom, making sure to grab a pair of towels out of the cabinet. Peeling off his clothes and starting up the shower, he waited till he saw steam rising from the top before hopping in. It was hot and his skin was starting to turn lobster red, but a part of him didn’t care. He didn’t move to change the temperature. The water hit his back at a light force and he was reminded of the terrible water pressure the loft had.

 

Stiles reached for the shampoo on the shower shelf, squirting a dollop of it into his hand before massaging it through his hair, his nails occasionally scraping against his scalp. Rinsing the soap out, Stiles ignored the uncomfortable bandage and let his thoughts wander as he went for the conditioner. 

 

What was he supposed to think of Derek? Staying up late? The picture? Lydia’s comment? His dad’s? Rationally, Stiles knew what it meant but the logic in him warned back saying Derek was just the only option, that Derek didn’t have the responsibility of school. That there was no hope for the rational part to win out.

 

Biting his lip, he finished rinsing his hair once more, turning off the shower as the conditioner drained out of his hair. Stepping out, he wrapped a towel around his waist. He ignored the cold air hitting his chest, and dried himself off, his hair with a hand towel. While not for its intended purpose, it works well with his short hair, though in all reality, it was long for him. Stiles looked at himself in the fogged up mirror.

 

Over the summer, his arm muscles had gotten more defined, and his abs were just starting to show. His shoulders widened too. As Lydia would say, he’s grown into his body shape quite well. His favourite part though, is that he wasn’t pale anymore. A nice, well-evened tan was spread across his chest and arms. Gone was the lanky, hyped-up freshman he once was, and in place was this man who actually looked like, well, a man. He noticed the resemblance of his mother too, with his bright amber eyes and restless dark brown hair. Sure, the scars of the past were still there, but now they were faded, and he was stronger than ever before.

 

A cough and a sharp knock broke him out of his admiration of himself. 

 

“Yeah?” He called out, clearing his throat.

 

“Uh...I heard the shower stop. Pancakes are still warm. Do you want to change the bandage now or after food?” Derek’s voice traveled through the door. Stiles hesitated, thinking about it.

 

“I’ll eat first. Just let me get my shirt on.”

 

“All right, sounds good.” Stiles could practically hear Derek nod out the reply. His stomach grumbled, giving him a jumpstart to getting dressed. It was now how much he realized how hungry he truly was.

 

Walking downstairs, the pancake aroma grew stronger and he felt like he could eat a horse.

 

“Smells good.” Stiles murmured out, Derek handing him a plate. Other than those few words, it was quiet, the two moving around each other like a dance. He thought about making a comment about needing to expand the kitchen so it’s not as crowded, but the words died in his throat as Derek slid the bottle of maple syrup towards him. Stiles watched in scrutiny and disbelief as Derek poured a large quantity of raspberry syrup on his own. Lydia had been right. Of course.

 

Slowly grabbing the maple syrup, he looked up and down, multiple times, trying to catch Derek’s reaction when he started pouring the syrup over his pancakes. It was quick, and Stiles almost missed it, but Derek’s face pulled into a grimace. Smirking, Stiles cut through the three pancakes with his fork and stuffed it in his mouth. For a second, he forgot himself and moaned in delight about how good they tasted.

 

“These are fantastic!” He said as soon as he finished swallowing, breaking the silence and immediately going for another bite. Derek looked like he was going to say something but a small dinging noise interrupted them.

 

“Want coffee?” Derek asked, instead of what was on his mind. Stiles watched Derek walk calmly over to the machine. Smiling at Derek’s turned back, Stiles reached over and moved one of Derek’s two pancakes over to his plate.

 

“Sure, you have creamer?”

 

“Do you still like French Vanilla?” Derek asked, still pouring his own cup of coffee.

 

“Yes.” Stiles felt his voice weaken at the response, and his throat clench up. This was too much. Too much domestic familiarity for him. Swallowing forcefully, he started eating the pancakes again, not looking up when Derek sat back down, placing a coffee mug in front of him. “Thanks.” Stiles nodded, and for a moment, it was silent.

 

“Did you…” Derek’s voice trailed off, causing Stiles to glance up at him. “Did you take my pancakes?”

 

“No…” Stiles dragged out the ‘o’ sound and took another bite. “Why would I do that?” He asked with his mouth full. Derek looked at him incredulously. “You drench yours in raspberry syrup.” Stiles made a face. “A tragedy indeed.”

 

“But you seem to like raspberry syrup,” Derek raised his eyebrows,” so maybe not so much a tragedy, and I drench my pancakes? You have a ocean of maple syrup on your plate.”

 

“Ocean? Well you have,” Stiles looked for something to say. “Well you have nothing on your plate.” Reaching over, he snatched the last pancake. Sticking his tongue out at Derek, Stiles shoved a huge slice of it into his mouth, trying to maintain a serious face. It failed when Derek wiggled his ears. Stiles struggled to swallow while he was laughing, but when he finally did, Derek had joined in on the laughter. THrowing his head back, Stiles laughed loudly. “When did you figure out you could do that?”

 

“When I was a kid. Laura and I would challenge each other to do weird things. She could touch her elbows behind her back and bring them up over her head.”

 

“Damn.” Stiles whistled. “I can’t even do that and I’m double jointed.” All of a sudden Derek leaned forward, putting his thumb to Stiles’s lips. It went deadly silent as Stiles’s eyes widened and his entire body froze under the contact. Derek stopped whatever he was doing for a moment too, scared he went too far. The entirety of it was like a still life scene, as if someone had hit pause on life’s remote control. 

 

A loud thump startled them both and Derek instantly withdrew his hand.

 

“Raspberry syr—”

 

“Probably a bird—”

 

They talked in unison before stopping and just staring at each other.

 

“What?” Stiles asked.

 

“You have raspberry syrup sticking to your chin. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” Derek wanted to continue but Stiles waved him off.

 

“It’s fine.” Stiles murmured out, “I’ll uh.. we need to change the bandage before the pups, the pack,” he corrected himself, “get here. I’ll clean up quickly.” Derek stood up, taking Stiles’s plate with him before turning and walking to the sink. Stiles himself got up and walked away, breathing for what seemed like the first time, as soon as he stepped out of the same room. Hurrying along, he bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and walked straight into the bathroom, and opening the cabinets underneath the sink. 

 

He had to move a few things around, but eventually he unveiled the creamy white box with the blood red cross on it. Straightening up, he pushed the cabinets closed with his foot, and reeled the light dial to the highest setting. Then, taking off his shirt with care, Stiles cleared his throat.

 

“I’m ready when you are. I’m gonna need some help.” He spoke out loud, knowing Derek could hear him all the way in the kitchen. He wasn’t sure how he knew that. Derek could’ve easily have turned on music the second he had left. But something in Stiles gave him the instinct that Derek was just waiting. He tried not to dwell on it as he heard footsteps coming up the spiraling staircase. A few moments later, Derek was in the open doorway. 

 

“Ready?” Derek asked, stepping into the room, closer to Stiles. Stiles was at a loss for words and just nodded.

 

The whole matter didn’t take very long, but Stiles willed it to go faster as he was beginning to become cold. Yet he had to remain still as Derek took the bandage off, in one swift movement. He hissed but he brushed off Derek’s concerned expression. Looking down at it, the cut didn’t look too bad, but it was deep. He willed himself to feel queasy. It should’ve just by looking at it, but nothing came. It was painful and looked disgusting, but he couldn’t feel anything. Derek looked up and they stared at each other. Wordlessly, Stiles nodded, signalling it was all right to continue.

 

Right away, Derek pulled out some alcohol wipes and Stiles steeled himself for the stinging. But it never came. Looking down, he noticed Derek was leeching the pain from him, the black lines trailing up his arms in Derek’s veins. However, he started to feel light headed, probably from exertion. Stiles closed his eyes, gripping onto the bathroom counter tightly. Faintly, he heard Derek say his name in a questioning manner, but Derek seemed so far away. He heard his name called again, and he quietly asked what was happening, but no answer came as he felt his body slump and Derek catching him.

 

Nothing but blackness.

 

When Stiles came to, Derek was holding his hand and trailing his fingers through Stiles’s hair. He let out a sigh, refusing to open his eyes out of embarrassment. Derek paused in his movements, but didn’t move away.

 

“I passed out, didn’t I?” His voice was soft, and he began coughing. Derek pushed a water bottle into his hands, and Stiles sat up, gulping it. With half a bottle left, Stiles stopped. “I’m sorry.” Stiles was confused and felt out of place but he was no longer dizzy, and his head was no longer in the clouds.

 

“How are you feeling?” There was so much sympathy in Derek’s voice, Stiles didn’t know how to respond at first.

 

“Better?”

 

“Was that an answer or a question?” Derek seemed unsure.

 

“Did you tell my dad?” Stiles blurted out, blatantly ignoring the questions. “He’ll freak if he finds out, Derek.” He attempted throwing the blankets off but Derek stopped him. For a second, he flailed about, trying to get away and out from the covers. When the movement stopped, and Stiles accepted he wasn’t going anywhere, he laid still. Derek was hovering over him, somehow managing to be pulled onto the bed. Derek’s arms were next to Stiles’s head and Derek’s legs were holding Stiles’s in place. He let out a deep growl and Stiles just stared at the flashing gold eyes.

 

“Stiles.” Derek’s voice was deep, lower than it had been. “Stop freaking out and listen to me. Yes, you passed out. No, your dad doesn’t know. It was only for a few minutes. And…” Derek glared as Stiles opened his mouth. “before you say anything else, you should take a look at that cut of yours.” It was then just the sound of them breathing and Stiles noticed how close their faces were when he felt Derek’s breath across his cheek. Another inch and they’d—Derek pulled off of him. “Call me if you need me.” Walking out of the room, Derek closed the door behind him.

 

“Dammit.” Stiles said, punching the mattress next to him. Derek probably could’ve smelled his arousal. “Fucking chemosignals.” He swore. It dawned on him that that’s probably why Derek left because Derek wasn’t interesting and he recalled Scott saying it was a disgusting smell half the time. Remembering what was said though, he peeled the blanket off and stared at his stomach in complete shock.

 

It was gone. Completely gone. Awestruck, Stiles just stared his scarless stomach.

 

 

* * *

 

 

‘Wait what?” Lydia looked at him, gaping. “That’s ridiculous. Show me.” She demanded, standing up, motioning with her hands for him to do the same. Rolling his eyes at her dramatics, he got off his high kitchen chair and lifted up his shirt with one hand. Watching her grin and cross her arms, he dropped it instantaneously and glared at her. 

 

“You just wanted to see my without my shirt.” He accused her.

 

“Can you blame me? You come back all tanned and handsome.” She winked at him and swatted at Jackson when he rolled his eyes. “Besides, I know I’m not the only one appreciating the looks.” Lydia said smugly. Her expression turned to serious. “It is a little concerning though that it’s completely gone. And it’s illogical.”

 

“Do it again.” Kira said, and when Scott opened his mouth in shock, she laughed. “I’m being serious. I didn’t catch a good look at it the first time. And I want to be a nurse.” She added on shyly. Smiling and giving out a dramatic sigh, Stiles lifted his shirt back up. “Is it okay if I…?” Kira motioned with her hands and Stiles nodded. Carefully, Kira prodded around the area where the cut should’ve been. “Does that hurt at all?”

 

“Nope. Nothing.” 

 

The door opened, dragging all their attention to it. Standing in the doorway was Danny, Liam, and an older gentleman. He had a sharp jawline that had stubble on it, and his hair was flipped up in the front, styled like Danny’s. He was taller though by a couple of inches, and his clothes fit snugly against him. A shoulder tattoo peaked out from his shirt's collar line and sleeve. Stiles raked his eyes over the man’s body, knowing that while he likes... _ him _ , he can definitely still appreciate the fine specimen that’s standing in front of him.

 

“Guys,” Danny’s cheerful voice echoed in the loft. “Meet my brother Matt. Matt, meet the pack.” There was a noise of protest from Stiles’s right but he didn’t turn his head to see who it was. “Relax.” Danny put up his hands, and stepped into the apartment, Matt following him with a wide grin. “Matt grew up in a pack in Hawaii, the same one that Stiles’s stayed with. It’s all cool.”

 

“It’s good to finally meet all of you.” Matt trailed his eyes over everyone, stopping on Stiles. When Matt sent him a wink, Stiles felt his cheeks flush and he turned away for a split second, letting his shirt fall back to normal. “I didn’t know I’d be getting a show when I walked in.”

 

“I take it you’re gay.” Lydia said smugly.

 

“Lydia!” Several voices cried out, but Matt just laughed.

 

“Yes, I am. How’d you guess?”

 

“My gaydar is never wrong.” That got Matt to laugh again, and when he stopped, he walked up to Scott, straightening out his shirt from the wrinkles. Scott himself straightened himself out and leaned off of the couch.

 

“It’s a pleasure to see you Alpha. The rumors and stories I hear about you, and your pack, are impressive. If not terrifying at times.” Matt’s charisma was enchanting, and Stiles could see Scott’s ego soar through the compliment. The two shook hands, and the apprehensive tension in the air melted away. “And you must be Stiles.” Matt turned to him, and Stiles nodded. “I’ve heard a lot about you too. How did you enjoy Hawaii? I hope Keanu didn’t get you into too much trouble.”

 

“The weather there was amazing and we didn’t get into any mischief. Nothing you can prove at least.” Feeling confident, Stiles winked back at Matt.

 

“That’s good to hear. I’m glad the pack could help you with your nightmares. Oh, and Miranda wants you to send her an email? Not sure what it’s about but she mentioned something about tattoos and a visit. She was all vague on the manner.”

 

“I’ll send her one later.”

 

“Good! She’ll love to hear from you. And I must apologise for interrupting your meeting. I tried telling Danny to wait, especially with the duergar problem, but I—”

 

“How the hell do you know about that?” Derek growled out, coming out of nowhere. Matt looked taken aback for a second but it quickly fell away to an easy-going expression.

 

“Mr. Hale! What an honour. I had no idea you’d be here. I met your sister, Laura, once and I—”

 

“Enough about me.” Derek stepped closer to Matt, and slightly in front of Stiles. “How do you know about the duergar issue?” If Matt felt intimidated, it didn’t show, and the smile never left his face.

 

“Mr. Hale, this isn’t the first time a duergar issue has been around. While they are most commonly mistaken for brownies, with all the foolery they get up to, it’s nothing too out of the ordinary.” 

 

“You seem to know a lot about them.” Liam interrupted, causing Matt to turn away from Derek, missing the dirty look Derek shot towards him. “Have you ever met one?” Matt shook his head, and Liam looked deflated.

 

“I studied at UC Berkeley. They have a secret department underneath the school for studies of the supernatural, known as SOS. During the day I attended regular classes and got my bachelors in education last year, and at night, there were classes on creatures and all that fun jazz.” Matt spoke so casually that Stiles couldn’t help but feel envy for already graduating. But him, along with everyone in the room, was listening to Matt’s mellow tenor voice. Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles saw Danny shake his head in amusement.

 

“What could you tell us about them?” Scott inquired.

 

“Nothing you guys don’t already know. There’s not many studies and works about them, but truthfully, that’s one of the reasons I’m here.” Matt piqued Lydia’s interest. “I want to write the first novel on them. THey’ve surfaced before but usually they like to blend in, get normal jobs.”

 

“What type?” Malia asked.

 

“Type of what?”

 

“Jobs. What type of jobs do they get?” She rephrased the question.

 

“May I sit down?” Malia nodded, and Matt sat down next to her on the end of the couch. Everyone else followed in suit, sitting on some flat surface or leaning against something. When he was comfortable, Matt continued. “Usually something that required heavy lifting. Like construction, but a few go into acting.”

 

“Wait,” Stiles made the group pause, “does that mean Tyrion Lannister from Game of Thrones is a duergar?”

 

“You’d have to ask him.” Matt smirked, “but I have my suspicions.” 

 

“I thought you said there’s not a lot known about them.” Derek’s protective voice jumped in on the conversation.

 

“There’s no books written on them that are accurate to the dot, but there are some things known about them.” Matt continued. “You guys are after rogues. When they come up here from their world—”

 

“Where exactly is ‘their world’?” Jackson butted in, making quotation marks with his hands.

 

“Underground. Different dimension.” Matt quickly answered. “It’s not all figured out yet. When they come here, it’s usually because they’ve committed a crime. Most of the time, whatever they’ve done, is indicated by a tattoo somewhere on their body. Most times out of not, it’s on their face or hands.” Stiles winced and tried not to feel disgusted. “What?” Matt asked, curious.

 

“The one I saw at the coffee shop had a skull tattoo with tentacles. The image that just popped into my brain wasn’t a good one.”

 

“I bet.” Matt looked disgusted himself.

 

“Woah, guys!” Scott jumped up from his sitting position. “Sorry to interrupt Matt.” He gave Matt his classic puppy dog look and Matt waved his hand to show it was no big deal. “It’s ten ‘o clock. We have to get going.” 

 

“Shit.” Stiles said. “My dad is probably up waiting for me. Derek, thanks for letting me stay here.” Derek grumbled out an answer. Stiles hesitated in picking up his duffel bag, seeing if Derek would say more. He didn’t.

 

“I’ll walk you to your car.” Matt volunteered. “Danny, I’ll start up the truck. Key me?” Danny threw him a pair of keys and Matt caught it in one swift motion. “Nice toss bro.”

 

Once outside the loft, they took the stairs down to the first floor, seeing as the elevator was still not fixed. 

 

“Well this is my ride—” Stiles began, pointing at the blue jeep that’s been with him for years, not bothering to figure out who brought it. Probably Scott.

 

“Are you and Derek—” Matt interceded, blurting out the question.

 

“What?” Stiles looked at him in shock. “I mean, at one time yes, but not this time. Not right now. We’re on this break sort of thing? We got into a fight and yada yada. No, I just got hurt and he was the only logical choice. We’re not dating.” Matt studied him.

 

“But you want to be.” Matt commented.

 

“True, but it doesn’t matter. It won’t happen again.” Stiles brushed it off, and the seriousness disapparated off of Matt’s face and a small smile appeared.

 

“Do you want to go on a date with me then?” He asked.

 

“Yeah, I’d love to.” 


	18. Chapter 18

Date. He had agreed to a date. The impact fully hit him when he walked through his front door. A part of him was ecstatic though at the prospect, and while the other side of him was screaming out the word 'no' and 'what about Derek', Stiles reasoned that he needed to move on, and that Scott was right. He knew it was wrong to use another to get over someone else, but he could see himself growing to like Matt, and Matt's personality, at least from what he'd seen tonight, was attractive and outgoing.

Stiles dilly-dallied in his car for a few minutes, something preventing him from going inside. Maybe it was the fact that his father could read him like a book, or maybe it was because he's going to want to sit down at his computer, hack into the police records, and make sure that Matt didn't have one. There wasn't any reason to believe he did, Matt is Danny's brother after all, but Stiles knew he liked to stay on the safe side. Shaking his head at his child-like behavior, Stiles took the keys out of the ignition, grabbed his duffel bag from the back seat, and headed inside.

Kicking off his shoes at the door, Stiles called out for his dad, and then began to hum.

"Kitchen!" His dad yelled back. Nodding to himself, Stiles bent down to toss his shoes off to the side and noticed another pair that were neither his dad's nor his. He erred on the side of caution as he proceeded down the hallway to the kitchen.

"Aren't you supposed to be in bed?" Stiles teased out as he braced himself for whatever, whoever, was in the kitchen alongside his dad. Turning the corner, he froze in his tracks. Next to his dad, sitting at the table, was a duergar. There was no mistake that could be made. Except, Stiles was taken aback at the fact that it wasn't a male, it was a female. She had dark brown hair that was shaved on the one side. Her face was round and there was a thin, white scar that traveled from the top of her ear down to her chin. Her eyes were so brown they were almost black, and Stiles couldn't see a tattoo anywhere visible. Stiles looked back and forth between his father and the creature.

However, unlike the duergar from the coffee shop, and from the night before, she had a lighter skin tone, and she was taller and more slender. If anything, she looked human.

"I Missy." The creature struggled to say, before frowning. Her accent was strong and it sounded like a mix between Russian and Italian, which seemed nearly impossible. "I am Missy." It, Missy, corrected her grammar. Stiles made no move, and remained standing in the doorway, mouth agape.

"Ah, okay, Dad?" He looked at his dad with a perplexed expression.

"Missy came about an hour ago, and wanted to talk to you. Sit down, son. This is some important stuff." His dad motioned for him to sit and carefully, Stiles followed, pulling out the chair across from Missy and next to his father. She looked at him expectantly.

"I'm Stiles."

"Stills." Missy rolled his name off her tongue.

"St-iles." He said again, with more enunciation. It was similar to teaching a child a letter.

"Stisle." Missy repeated, and Stiles just shrugged. Close enough.

"Missy was talking about some sort of eclipse and a few other supernatural things I didn't fully understand." The Sheriff shot Missy an apologetic look and she just nodded.

"Yes. I talk to him. Sorry, English is no good. I learn slow from book." Missy stared at Stiles. "Family come up from Norádín. Want power from eclipse, but family no good." Missy looked angry all of a sudden. "Want power to destroy you, destroy species, knowledge. Me no want that." She relaxed a little. "I like learning, is fun. I like to travel. Want to see world, explore language. Family no like. Family criminal. Understand?" Missy was beginning to look more human in his eyes than duergar, and Stiles wondered if she was part human, but Stiles still kept his shield up.

"Where is Norádín? And your family," Stiles spoke at a slow pace, trying to understand, "wants power from the eclipse to do what? Why are you here?" It took Missy awhile, and Stiles felt bad for not knowing her original language. He really did need to crack open the grimoire.

"Can't tell where Norádín is. Death is punish. Eclipse is good through power, strengthens us. Moon eclipse take power, and sun eclipse gives. But every five-hundred years. They want to destroy Norádín. Turned back on family, called us criminals. Family criminals, not me. Me is good. All family punish though. Me here for you help. Understand?" Missy stopped for a second, and her voice dropped a pitch. "Scared of family." She looked timid. "Them big, me small. They strengthen, me weak. Me no like death, they love it."

"Pardon me for asking, but are you part human? Is that part of it?" Stiles hesitantly asked, and Missy nodded.

"Outsider no matter where. I born here on Earth, but been to Norádín."

"What would you like me to do?" Stiles put his forearms on the table and leaned forward.

"You have pack. Strong pack can drive family away."

"What about you?"

"Me stay here. Beacon is good." She let out a gruff sigh. "I want to stay here. Beacon is good." He felt guilty for a moment that he was having her talk so much, and maybe, if the pack agrees to help, she can get lessons from one of them. Missy could certainly pass as human.

"If your family likes death, they won't leave easily." He warned. "They'll want to fight, and some may die. They've already attacked us once." Stiles didn't try to cover up the possibility of casualties. Missy was quiet for a few minutes.

"I understand with war, come death. Me have no connection. Me want them gone." She said confidently.

"Okay then." Stiles leaned back, bringing his hand up on the table to drum his fingers. He looked at his dad, who just shrugged in response. Stiles was sure he'd hear something about dead bodies from him later, considering he is the Sheriff, but as of right now, his father is a citizen. "Would you like to stay the night? I'm sure they already know where you are." Missy's wince at his statement proved him correct.

"There's an extra bedroom upstairs and I can get some of the blankets down from the closet." His father stood up, pushing in his chair.

"And I have some clothes that will be oversized for you, but can work as PJ's." Stiles said, also standing up. Missy nodded, and her eyes were beginning to water.

"Family this is." She smiled so brightly at them. Stiles grinned in response.

"Yes, it is. I'll call the pack in the morning, but we should get to bed. It's going on eleven, and I have some AP Biology homework to finish." With that, Stiles gave Missy a quick tour around the house, pointing out the bathroom, the guest room, where his room is in case she needed anything. Meanwhile, his father set up the guest bedroom, and came out when it was done. Missy looked extremely thankful and she repeated her thanks more than once.

Eventually, it was just his dad and him standing in the hallway at the doors to their rooms.

"You did good, son." Was all his father said before turning and disappearing into his bedroom. Stiles felt a rush of pride before closing the door to his own room. Almost immediately he searched out for the grimoire. He didn't find it under his bed, nor on his dresser top. Feeling aggravated, he scanned the room. It was in here somewhere, he knew it. His eyes narrowed in on his desk, and he felt stupid for not looking there first.

Underneath a stack of random print-outs for school, Stiles uncovered the leather-bound book. He really looked at it this time. On the cover, the word "Grimoire" was burned in. Nothing else. Nothing special. Untying the string holding it together, Stiles carefully opened it up.

Right off the bat, he could tell it was handwriting, a mix between print and cursive, and surprisingly easy to read. The first page had an introduction, but Stiles skipped it, reasoning in his mind that he'd read it later. Scrolling through a few pages, he realised it was organized in sections of "Common", "Rare", and "Unusual". Thinking he'd check in common first, he quickly looked at all the pages. Among the first was werewolf, and he had to laugh at that. But he couldn't find anything about duergars.

Moving onto the next section, Stiles finally found it on the last page, in a short paragraph, if it could even be called that.

DUERGAR: THE CREATURE FROM NORADIN

Prefer living in the dark - caves & tunnels

Roughly 4.5 feet, about 200 pounds, skin usually gray or sooty black, fiery amber eyes, some have red hair, typically bald & grow spiny quills (porcupine) than typical hair

Can turn invisible, vulnerable to sunlight, immune to paralysis, phantasms, alchemical poisons, types of illusion, fire & poison

Sneak & Crafty

Lifespan up to 250 years

Dresses in clothing that matches the color of stone

Those found on surface world are criminals and generally have a tattoo (arm &/or face) that marks them as one, and sometimes what they did

Not a lot known about them.

Stiles sat back and reread everything. It wasn't much, but it was something.

* * *

"Hey." Matt smiled at him. He held a single rose in his hand and to say he was dressed up nicely, would be an understatement. His shirt was a light blue button down that made his eyes stand out more and his jeans were a sleek black. Stiles blushed. Matt had somehow got his number off of Danny's phone and had called up earlier asking if the date could be tonight. Quite obviously, Stiles agreed.

"Hi."

"You look wonderful." Matt's eyes darted down and then back up. "Even with a shirt on this time." All Stiles could do was nod and hope his father wasn't listening in, because that would lead to a very awkward conversation that he definitely did not want to have. "Oh! Where are my manners? This is for you." Holding out the rose, Matt took a small step closer, and suddenly Stiles was aware of what time it was.

"Thank you." Stiles gently took the rose. "Wanna get going? I don't want to miss out on the reservation."

"Yes, yes, of course." Matt quickly said, with a soft smile. "I hope you're okay with O'Charley's? I know it's in the next town over, but their food is to die for apparently." Matt suddenly looked unsure, and the debonair aura he had was filled with worry.

"No, of course it's fine." Stiles smiled, and Matt was back to being carefree. CLosing the front door behind him, Stiles followed Matt to his car. It was a silver Ford fiesta, one of the newer brands from the look of it.

"I'm renting it for my visit." Matt said, as if he could read Stiles's thoughts. "I have a friend that owns the dealership so I got a pretty good deal on it." Walking over to the passenger side, Matt opened the door for him. Stiles's face begun to hurt from smiling so much but he couldn't stop.

* * *

Entering the restaurant, it gave off a very homey feel to it. There was excited chatter in the air and more people were laughing then acting grumpy. There were a few kids but they weren't acting outlandish or screaming. Scanning the room, Stiles listened in to Matt talking to the lady about their reservation.

"Follow me." The girls' cheery voice, as well as Matt's warm hand in the middle of his back, brought him out of his train of thought. They followed her, and were seated at a table for two in the back, in the low lit, quieter, non-smoke section. "Here are your menus, and what can I get for you two gentlemen to drink?" The waitress pulled out a pad of paper from her belt and a pencil from behind her ear.

"May I please have a chocolate shake?" Matt asked charmingly. The girl hummed in agreement, and turned to Stiles, who requested the same thing.

"All right, I'll be right back with those and to get your order." She smiled before disappearing into the kitchen.

"Well, the service is really cheery." Matt stared at Stiles with a grin on his face.

"Yeah, it is." They laughed for a few seconds. "I think I'll get a cheeseburger. That's how you can tell if a restaurant is good or not." Stiles declared quietly among them. "It's my foolproof way of testing out restaurants." Matt laughed again, and Stiles was delighted.

"If you're getting the burger, I'll get some pasta. It's hard to go wrong there too." After a few minutes, the waitress came back up with their chocolate shakes, and took their orders. Another couple minutes after, their orders came out. It surprised Stiles at first at the speediness and efficiency, but one bite from his burger, and he forgot all he was thinking prior.

"This is so good!" Stiles moaned out, stressing the word 'so'. Matt agreed happily and they each had a couple more bites.

"I didn't know Danny had an older brother." Stiles stated, taking a bite of his burger right after.

"There's seven years between us, so we're not that close. There's actually only a few reasons we get along."

"Seven years? So you're twenty-five then? Where'd you go to highschool?" Stiles fired off the questioned before he could keep his curiosity in check. "Sorry." He mumbled out, but Matt just laughed.

"No, it's fine. I'm only twenty-four right now, and I went to high school at Davenport."

"So why is Danny here at Beacon Hills?" The questions kept coming.

"Davenport is a well known Catholic school, and they aren't too accepting of outwardly gay guys. So when I came out, there was a lot of negativity that came out of it, and my parents were worried that Danny would get harassed because of me. So the family move closer to Beacon Hills and viola! Then, when I went to college, so Danny would be going into what? Seventh grade? Danny came out too." Matt took a bite of his meal before continuing. "I swear my parents were going to have heart attacks when he told them. Two sons that are gay? They thought he was kidding around but he came home the next day with his best friend, and kissed him right in front of him." They laughed for a few seconds.

"What did they say? Who was it?"

"I think it was some kid named Jason or something. But my parents just stood there in shock apparently before shaking their heads. They're hoping our sister Ally is straight because they want grandchildren."

"How old is Ally?" Stiles continued to interrogate.

"She's eleven, and one of the sweetest girls I know." Matt beamed as he took another bite of his spaghetti.

"Do you know a lot about your family's history?" Stiles asked, and when Matt hummed, resumed his train of thought. "Are you guys originally from Hawaii? How'd you get into the supernatural?" He hesitated for a second. "How'd you know Laura?" Matt was quiet for a second, and Stiles was afraid he overstepped, him and his big mouth, and he was about to open it again to take it all back, but Matt started talking.

"My ancestors came over sometime in the nineteen-thirties on one of the first plane travels from Honolulu to Sacramento. From there, they lived in the city earning minimum wage. But my great-grandpa was fired when the economy got bad, and the whole family packed up and left. They settled a little further north than Beacon. My grandmother got us involved with a local pack after some territory disputes with the Orion's and Hales. In the end, it turned out it was a rogue making all the fuss, but that's how I met Laura, Derek's sister. I must've been five and she would've been six."

"Wow." Stiles breathed out, and pondered on all that was said as he took another bite of his food. "That's pretty impressive that you know all that."

"Speaking of Derek, I think it's my turn to start asking questions." Matt winked at him. "Were you two a thing?" Suddenly, a guard went up in Stiles, and Stiles wanted to quickly get out of this situation. Exes weren't brought up on the first date.

"Yeah, last year." He heard his voice say.

"He's a good man from what I've heard. Made a few bad choices maybe, but he's tough." Matt murmured out the last part. "Sorry," he was cheerful again, "you probably don't want to talk about exes. To be honest, I just wanted to pick your brain for information on the supernatural."

"Yeah—wait, what?" Stiles looked at him in confusement.

"Sorry." Matt appeared bashful. "You're good looking and all, but even I know not to mess with a werewolf's claim."

"Let's get one thing straight," he snapped out, "I am not Derek's territory." He felt a little guilty afterward, but it needed to be said. Thankfully, Matt didn't look too offended.

"I'm sure, and I'm completely fine with that. But does _he_ know that?"

The question echoed in his head for the rest of the night.

* * *

"I'm calling a pack meeting for later tonight." Stiles spoke over the phone, his shoulder holding it up to his ear as he drove down the street. Missy was in the passenger seat beside him staring out the window.

"Yeah, yeah." He heard Scott's voice say. "I'll make sure everyone is there. Derek's loft then at seven." They hung up on each other.

"So Missy, where have you been since you came to Beacon Hills? And how old are you?"

"Library and house." She replied back, her attention taken off of the passing surroundings. "I is—am fifty-three my time. About twenty your time."

"What about schooling?"

"What is school? In Norádín, learn work." Missy sounded confused. Stiles glanced over at her and gave her a quick up down before turning to face the road again.

"Do you want to go to school? I could print up some birth certificates and identity information. You wouldn't have to go to public school—that's where I go. You could be homeschooled and learn at your own pace." He suggested.

"Yes! Yes! Really like that I would." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her jump in excitement, and he chuckled at her Yoda-like phrasing.

"That's good to know. Now, let's go to the mall to get you some clothes. Lydia's much better than I am at this stuff, but I've been on enough shopping trips with her to know my stuff. And I can help you on some of your English, which don't feel too bad about because you're learning and you're quite good at it so far."

"Been watching movies." She mispronounced 'movies' as 'moe-v-Ies' but Stiles didn't correct her as they pulled into the mall's parking lot.

"Did you enjoy hanging out with my dad yesterday? I'm sorry I wasn't around much. Friday's I have school till three." Stiles asked as he searched around for a parking spot.

"Yes. Dad is funny but eats bad. Said not tell you though." Missy said it with a serious look on her face.

"Oh, did he now?" As amused as he was, Stiles was going to scold his father later.

* * *

"Is everyone here?" Stiles asked, stepping into the loft. He had instructed Missy to wait outside, and that he'd come to get her when it was time. She had chosen to wear her new outfit that they had decided on

"Yes, Stiles, we're all here. I told you so." Scott laughed. "What did you want to tell us?"

"Well," he trailed off, "it's more of who I want you all to meet. I'll be right back." There were a few confused looks tossed his way, but Stiles opted to turn around and let Missy in. Opening the door, he nodded at her and she grimaced back. Turning back around, he noticed that half the wolves were of their feet now, in curiousity.

"Guys, meet Missy." Stiles stepped aside, and Missy cautiously came out from behind him. Almost immediately there were snarls and Missy cowered back, Stiles stepping in front of her instantaneously, standing in between her and the pack. And then he growled. But it wasn't human. It was deep and projected itself across the room, bouncing off the walls. But as shocked as he was and his brain wanting to jump to research, Stiles remained focused on the situation in front of him. The situation diffused though, and Isaac looked shaken up. Scott closed his mouth and the wolfy sideburns retreated back to wherever they came from in the first place. Derek appeared taken aback, and so did Jackson and Malia.

Lydia was the only one maintaining eye contact with him, but Stiles could tell she was just as surprised. He continued to glare at all of them.

"Missy came here on her own free will. She could be killed for this, so y'all gonna sit down, shut up, and listen." Stiles bit out. Slowly, each pack member sat down, and stared at him expectantly. "Good. Missy," Stiles motioned for her to come next to him, "now that they aren't being super protective and behaving like children, they'll listen to you." He spared a glance at her and she looked unsure of what to do.

"You talk. I bad at English." She said, and out of the corner of his eye, saw her look at him.

"Okay, I can do that. Want to sit down?"

"Not near wolf."

"There's a chair by the counter." Stiles pointed near the kitchen. Missy hummed happily and went to sit down. Once everyone was seated, he began to talk.

"In case you've failed to notice, Missy is a duergar, partly at least. But the thing that matters is that she doesn't want her family to get away with this. She has volunteered to tell us everything we need to know, for protection in return. And we're going to take this deal because we know shit when it comes to dealing with duergars."

"There's books on them, we can use those." Jackson argued.

"Matt said last night that there's not a lot of information on them." Stiles retorted.

"Sure, cause _Matt_ said so." Derek scoffed under his breath and Stiles glared something fierce at him.

"Yes, he did." Stiles said. "And I'm a much better judge of character than you are, so I suggest you be quiet." There was a soft round of gasps, and Stiles watched as Derek clenched his jaw in anger. Maybe he overstepped a line, but so did Derek.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! And I'm back! :D
> 
> I've finally gotten some writing inspiration!
> 
> So what do you guys think so far? What about Matt? And Missy?
> 
> What are you guys thinking about the dynamic between Stiles and Derek?
> 
> What about just Stiles in general with his 'spark', as Deaton puts it? What exactly is it? And why do you guys think he healed so fast?
> 
> All right, I'll stop interrogating you guys. But thank you. Seriously.
> 
> You guys have stayed with this story even though it has taken me so long to publish chapters.
> 
> Until next time! I think you guys will like next chapter ;) ;)


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Stiles argue....something ensues...

“Excuse me?” Derek raised a brow. Ignoring Derek, Stiles looked at everyone else. He didn’t have time for such petulance. 

 

“We’re going to help her because it’s our only chance and it’s the right thing to do.” Despite having said it so forcefully and with confidence, Stiles braced himself for arguments, but none came.

 

“Don’t have to convince me. I’m game.” Scott stood up, and the whole pack watched in careful scrutiny as he walked over to Missy. She looked pained, but she didn’t run, though Stiles half expected it when she twitched. “I’m Scott, the Alpha, and you’re safe with us.” 

 

“Alpha.” Missy looked relaxed and shook Scott’s outstretched hand. THe rest of the pack calmed down and the tenseness in the air seeped out under the under. Stiles still felt Derek’s eyes on him and he willed himself not to look back. 

 

“And while I’m sure,” Lydia’s voice suddenly rang out, “staying with Stiles might be fun, food and all. Why don’t you come and stay at my house? It’ll be a girl’s night.” She smiled and it was so genuine, it threw Stiles off for a second. Usually it was Lydia that was the last person to earn trust from within the pack. “Besides,” Lydia turned back to Stiles, “I think Stiles needs to stay here a little longer and work some things out. Come on.” Lydia motioned for Missy to follow her, grabbed her satchel off the ground, and the two left. Before Missy got all the way out the door, she turned and waved at Stiles. He relaxed, not realising he was so hesitant to let her out of his sight.

 

“Yeah.” Scott rubbed the back of his neck. “Kira, Isaac, I can give you guys rides.”

 

“On your motorcycle?” Stiles raised one of his eyebrows in a questioning manner. Something fishy was going on and the pack was all in on it. It displeased him.

 

“Actually,” Kira spoke up, looking at Scott before addressing Stiles, “I brought my dad’s Honda with so we’re using that.” Then all three of them left before another word could get out, and Stiles just stood there gaping. Scott had shot him a look just as he closed the loft’s hefty door, but Stiles couldn’t decipher what it meant. Turning around, he gestured helplessly at Jackson and Malia, who both shrugged in return and picked up their bags.

 

“I’ll drive, Malia.” Jackson pulled out his car keys. “I know you’re still having flashbacks.” Then Jackson winked at Stiles, and walked out of the loft with Malia following him closely. If he wasn’t so shocked at how quickly it went from the entire pack down to just him and Derek, Stiles would be curious as to if something was happening between Jackson and Malia, or the trio, Scott, Kira, and Isaac. Opening and closing his mouth a few times, the loft was uncharacteristically silent. Slowly, as if any noise was forbidden, Stiles stood up, snapping out of his trance.

 

“Well,” he began, ready to say goodbye.

 

“Why do you trust him?” Derek spat out in anger.

 

“Because he’s Danny’s older brother? He went to school for the supernatural? He knows more about this crap than anyone else we know, excluding Deaton and his sister.” Stiles willed himself not to get riled up at Derek’s immaturity of continuing the argument.

 

“So?” 

 

“So what?” Stiles threw his hands up in the air and stepped closer to Derek. “Why does he bother you so much?”

 

“Because.” Derek growled out the answer.

 

“Yeah, because  _ that’s _ such a great answer. Explains everything.” Stiles sarcastically bit out.

 

“Because,” Derek’s voice raised in volume, “every damn time a new person comes to this fucking town, someone gets hurt. Or multiple people. Look at Jennifer! Look at Mrs. Yukimura! Look at Kate! Look at that weird creature we had to deal with two weeks ago, the kiyohist or whatnot.”

 

“Kiyohime.” Stiles blurted out.

 

“Fine, kiyohime. The point is, why should Matt be any different? And with our luck, should we even be surprised?” Derek’s shoulders relaxed and the fight disappeared for a second. “Someone always gets hurt.”

 

“Because I know he’s not.” Stiles knew it was a lame argument.

 

“How?  _ How _ could you possibly know?” The fight was back, and Derek stepped closer. “What if you get hurt?”

 

“So what?” Stiles stepped closer as well, poking Derek in the chest hard. “So what if I get hurt? Why do you care? I heard nothing from you all summer, and now you’re acting all worried. Why? And don’t give me that bullshit answer of ‘you’re pack’.”

 

“I was giving you some distance.” 

 

“What if I didn’t want that?” Stiles retorted back in a yell, before lowering his voice again. “What if I didn’t want you to leave me alone? What if I wanted you to come to Hawaii and talk some sense into me?”

 

“What?” He looked taken aback and Stiles paused for a second to rewind the conversation in his head. Shaking his head at his lack of a filter, Stiles just shook his head and stepped back.

 

“It doesn’t matter.” Stiles said. “It’s in the past, and it can’t be changed.” He turned on his heel and grabbed his backpack off the floor. Refusing to look at Derek, Stiles started walking out of the loft. As he reached for the door handle, Derek spun him around, his back held against the wall by Derek’s arms. 

 

“Dammit Stiles!” Derek yelled out, his voice echoing in the loft. “

 

“No.” Stiles twisted his face up in anger. “ _ You _ know nothing about him, because you won’t give him a fucking chance!”

 

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” 

 

“Then what are you talking about?” Stiles dropped his backpack to cross his arms. For a second, it was quiet and Stiles thought that he had stunned Derek, though he couldn’t figure out how. 

 

But suddenly, Derek pushed Stiles up against the wall. It got  warm, very, very warm. Stiles wiggled but when Derek’s grip on his arms tightened, stilled. “Why do you have to push everything?” Derek growled out. “You’re insufferable.” Before Stiles could say another word, Derek leaned forward and took Stiles in for a deep kiss. Stiles immediately brought his hands up to Derek’s neck and pulled him closer, as Derek started nipping at Stiles’s lower lip.

 

Stiles pulled away, and Derek chased after him but stopped an inch away from his face. Breathing hard, Stiles looked into Derek’s eyes and tightened his grip on Derek’s hair.

 

“Fuck you.” He murmured before flipping the two around and pushing Derek against the wall in a rough kiss. It continued on for what seemed like hours in Stiles’s mind, and then Derek’s hands went under his shirt and gripped onto his hips. He let out an audible gasp, it slipping between his lips before he could stop it. In the kiss, he could feel Derek grin in amusement.

 

“Take your shirt off.” Derek instructed, pulling away just enough to look Stiles in the eye.

 

‘’Why would I do that?” Stiles tried to make himself appear innocent, but the smile growing on his face gave away his teasing. Growling, Derek pulled the shirt over Stiles’s head before taking his own off. “Ugh, that’s so not fair. It’s like you’re photoshopped.” Stiles whined out, blatantly looking Derek’s chest and abs up and down. Derek raised an eyebrow.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“This.” Stiles gestured towards Derek.

 

“You just gestured to all of me.”

 

“Shut up and fu—” The sentence never got fully out before Derek attacked his mouth again It was less rough as the first time, but it still had the energy and passion behind it. “Bedroom.” Stiles gasped. In a manner of seconds, or minutes as Stiles kept stumbling, they were in Derek’s room. Derek flicked the door closed with his foot before pressing Stiles up against it, avoiding the door handle.

 

“You’re so fucking  ridiculous, you know?” Derek bit at Stiles’s lower lip, causing Stiles to let out a sharp gasp and arch his back. “God I missed that face…” Derek murmured out, leaning into Stiles’s neck and biting at Stiles’s sweet spot.

 

“What face?” Stiles asked, but he knew.

 

“This one.” Derek bit down hard on Stiles’s shoulder. A soft mew sound was let out of by Stiles as he closed his eyes, relishing the sensation. It was a perfect mix between pain and pleasure. “The way your eyes close and you’re mouth falls open just slightly…” Derek and him started kissing again. Smirking to himself, Stiles raked his nails down Derek’s back, surprising Derek. “Fuck.” Stiles whispered into Derek’s ear as his fingers trailed along the marks he just made and then along the outline of Derek’s underwear, causing Derek’s breath to hitch.

 

Groaning, Derek turned the two around and pushed Stiles onto the bed, with a small  oomph noise. Not hesitating, Derek climbed on over him and kissed him roughly while attempting to unbutton his jeans.

 

“Here, wait a moment.” Stiles sat up, and took off his own pants, whilst Derek finished taking off his. “There, much easier.” Stiles grinned. “Now,” Stiles motioned for Derek to sit, and when Derek did so, straddled Derek’s waist. “I think we said something about fucking?” He held an innocent look on his face.

 

“Did we? I don’t remember.”

 

“You don’t?” Stiles rolled his hips. “That’s such a shame.” He moved  to get off and suddenly Derek was on top of him again in one swift movement. 

 

“Are you sure?” There was a fierceness in Derek’s eyes.

 

“Yes,” Stiles nodded, “without a doubt.”

 

“Good.” Surging forward, Derek  grinded down on Stiles, getting a moan of response. “Let me grab the lube quick.” Pushing off of the bed, Derek walked over to his dresser and took out a bottle of lube from the top drawer. He hesitate. “Condom?” Stiles flustered at the question for no other reason than he wasn’t used to it.

 

“I’m clean.”

 

“I am too.” They looked at each other for a second.

 

“No, just the lube.” Stiles managed to find his voice. Crossing back over to the bed, Derek looked at Stiles with a reborn passion.

 

“Lay down.” He instructed and Stiles complied, adjusting himself on the bed next to the pillows. When he went to cover his chest with his hands, feeling uncomfortable with Derek’s stare, Derek grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head.

 

“You’re amazing.” Derek breathed out.

 

“No, I’m not…” Stiles protested, but Derek stopped him.

 

“Shut up.”

 

“Make me.” Stiles bit out. Then they were kissing again, and Derek’s hands lowered. He began fingering Stiles, starting with one finger and moving it up to two, then three. All the while, Stiles had closed his eyes and was letting out little mewls of pleasure all the while dragging his nails against Derek’s back. 

 

“I think getting you to shut up is working.” Derek mused out before removing his fingers completely and quickly kissing Stiles. “Ready?” Stiles nodded and opened his legs a little wider, putting them on either side of Derek. The squelch of lube came and Derek lined up.

 

“Come on…” Stiles frustratedly said when Derek didn’t do anything right away. A huge grin appeared on Derek’s face.

 

“Well…” He hummed.

 

“Ugh.” Stils made another noise of frustration. “Fuck you.” He murmured out.

 

“I thought that was what you wanted.” Derek smirked.

 

“You’re purposely avoiding.” Stiles accused.

 

“Am I?” Derek quipped, leaning forward over Stiles and placing his forearms next to Stiles’s head. He nipped at Stiles’s ear, and Stiles stretched his neck out in response. “Fuck…” Derek moaned, “you know what that does to me.”

 

“Do I?” Stiles moved his head to stare back at Derek’s lust filled expression. “Why don’t you show me?” Carefully, and without dropping his gaze, Derek pushed forward. At some point, Stiles let out a noise of discomfort, but when Derek hesitated, Stiles placed his hands on Derek’s biceps. “It’s okay.” He said breathlessly, “keep going.” Derek complied until he bottomed out completely, not being able prevent the guttural sound of pleasure from escaping his mouth. 

 

“Is it okay if I —”

 

“Move? Yes, please.” Stiles moved his hips down, rolling them as he did so. “Please.” He repeated, nearly whimpering out the word. Without hesitation, Derek started moving in a slow pace back and forth, snapping forward at the last second. After a minute or so, he increased the speed, rolling his hips and getting Stiles to let out something was was close to a yell. A part of Derek was glad he didn’t have neighbors because the police would be getting called on them for domestic disturbance with his plan on getting Stiles to scream.

Despite it being warm and a little sweaty, Stiles was all to into what was happening to notice, as was Derek.

 

“Fuck.” Derek said, leaning his forehead against Stiles’s. Stiles’s suddenly made a high pitch noise and Derek grinned, continuing to aim for that same spot. As he kept hitting it, Stiles began shaking from the blissful sensation. “You gonna come for me?” Derek lowly whispered next to Stiles’s ear. “Huh?”

 

“Yes.” Stiles rolled the word off his tongue. “Yes, please.”

 

“Come for me, Stiles. I wanna hear you yell.” Derek nipped at Stiles’s ear for the second time that night before beginning to form hickies along Stiles’s collarbone. He could feel the pressure building in Stiles for release, because he felt the same way. The urgency and the need to let go. His hips began moving faster and every other time he his Stiles’s prostate, he’d roll his hips, leading an intense pleasure to occur. “Stiles…” 

 

“Hmmm…” Stiles made a noise at the back of his throat, his breathy moans getting louder. “Derek?”

 

“I want you to come for me.” Derek ordered, and after a few seconds, Stiles arched off the bed, and let out a husky scream as he came between the two. Derek wasn’t far behind as his legs started quivering and his hips started stuttering in their movements. Stiles again, dragged his nails against Derek’s skin before pulling him into a satisfying kiss. “I’m coming…” Derek groaned out, snapping his hips forward a few more times. 

 

It was quiet for a few moments after, both of them catching their breath. Derek had since then rolled over onto his back, to the right of Stiles, and just laid there, his eyes drooping close every so often. Stiles, on the other hand, kept fidgeting with his fingers, moving them in a tapping motion against his leg. A painful feeling erupted in his chest, but it was more of an emotional ache than a physical one. 

 

Not being able to take it any more, he sat up and started searching for his clothes on the ground. He could feel Derek’s eyes boring a hole in his back, which just caused him to hurry faster, knowing the question that was coming. His heart was racing and his eyes glanced around for his shirt before recalling they took it off in the other room.

 

“What are you doing?” The question rang out, and Stiles froze in his position. Grabbing his belt and straightening up, he closed his eyes and let out a deep breath.

 

“Going home.” It felt as if he had just swallowed peanut butter.

 

“Why?” Derek asked, and Stiles blinked away the tears before turning around

 

“This was a mistake, I’m sorry .” At those words, Derek’s relaxed expression turned into a stormy one.

 

“No, you don’t get to do that.” Derek bit out angrily, sitting upright from the bed, letting the sheet fall off his perfectly toned chest into his lap, his hands gripping the blankets next to him tightly. He could hear Stiles’s heartbeat racing.

 

“I’m sorry…” Stiles whispered the words out and ducked his head, ignoring the way his chest hurt with an unimaginable amount of pain. He rubbed at his chest before grabbing his shoes off the floor and fleeing the loft.


	20. Chapter 20

Quietly, Stiles turned on the coffee machine and listened to it gurgle as he popped a piece of a bread into the toaster. He had refused to look at himself in the mirror that morning, and he, no doubt, looked terrible. In his mind, he was counting the hours. Ten hours since he and Derek and had sex and he had left. Sighing, Stiles leaned on the counter and stared at the ground, crossing his arms. When the toaster popped back up, it startled him and he jumped a good foot. He grudgingly walked over, picking up the piece of toast, ignoring the burning sensation. Taking down a small plate from the cabinet above the coffee maker, and getting the butter out of the fridge, Stiles sighed again as he slathered butter across the toast.

 

“What’s got you being so melodramatic?” His father’s voice rang out and Stiles swiveled his head so hard in the direction that he was surprised he didn’t get whiplash. “And so jumpy.” His father noted.

 

“Just one of those days.” Stiles shrugged and turned back towards his toast.

 

“Nightmares?” His father’s voice softened.

 

“Sure.” Stiles lied through his teeth. It wasn’t that he still didn’t get nightmares, but they were easier to escape than they were before. In response, his father hummed. “Aren’t you going to work?” Clearing his throat, Stiles opened the corner cabinet and grabbed a mug from the top shelf.

 

“I am.” Grunting out the words, the Sheriff took the coffee pot and poured it straight into a travel mug, filling it up about halfway. “You know,” his father startled, and Stiles hummed saying he was listening, “I always found it funny that I’m the only one in this family that puts creamer in my coffee.” Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles saw his father open the fridge and take out hazelnut creamer.

 

“Interesting observation.” Stiles said as he poured coffee into his own mug. “I like straight coffee because it’s black, like my soul.” He joked but a part of him felt like there was some truth to it. “Now shoo.” he coughed to clear his throat prior to taking a sip of his hot coffee. It didn’t matter that it was scalding and he lost all his tastebuds. “I’m missing out on my quiet time before school starts, where I can relax before being surrounded by jackasses.”

 

“Language.” His father shook his head. “I’ll message you when I have my lunch. You going to Derek’s after school for the pack meeting?” Stiles swallowed and forced himself to maintain eye contact despite the anxious, dreading feeling rushing over him.

 

“Yeah. Scott’ll want me there, but I’m stopping at the vet beforehand.”

 

“Just behave.” At those words, Stiles just grinned and his father waved a hand of dismissal at him before turning and walking away. The grin fell away though the second his father’s back was turned and let out a quiet sigh. He downed the rest of his coffee and set the mug down near the sink, telling himself to not forget to wash it before he left for school.

 

He forgot.

* * *

 

 

Walking into school, Stiles was immediately flanked by Isaac, who looked on the edge of a breakdown. Pulling him off to the side of the hallway, near his locker, Stiles waited until Isaac had calmed down enough to be able to talk.

 

“What’s wrong?” He demanded.

 

“Dude,” Scott jogged up to them, dodging out of people’s ways, “your heart is racing. What’s wrong?” He repeated Stiles’s question unknowingly. Isaac just shook his head.

 

“Can I…” Isaac paused, “is it okay if I stay with you Scott? At least for tonight.”

“What happened?” Stiles insisted.

 

“Derek kicked me out again.” There was a kicked puppy look on Isaac’s face. “He was fine yesterday, he was great even, but this morning, he was just...an asshole.” Scott and Stiles shared a look, and nodded to each other.

 

“Of course, man.” Scott cheerfully said, trying to brighten the mood. “You know my mom loves you, and you can stay as long as you like, you know that.”

 

“What’d he say?” Angry, Stiles practically growled out the words. Derek had every right to be angry at him, but not Isaac.

 

“Nothing.” Isaac winced. “Just threw another pot at me.” When Stiles went to open his mouth, Isaac intervened. “I’m fine. It didn’t hit me, and I’m more upset by the fact that he ruined his new flower pot.” Isaac frowned. “He was going to try to start a garden this year.”

 

“Why’d he throw it?” Scott asked.

 

“He was in a sour mood and I kept asking him questions. I was at fault.” Isaac shrugged.

 

“No, you weren’t.” Stiles actually did growl the words out this time. “I’ll talk to him after school. I’d go now but I’d probably punch the motherfucker.” Both Scott and Isaac looked at him with matching stupendous faces. Instead of responding to their reactions, Stiles stalked off, his already sour mood turning worse.

 

When he got to AP Lit, he practically slammed his books down, startling Lydia from her reading. Stiles huffed as he plopped down on his seat, his backpack being tossed next to his feet.

 

“What’s got your boxers in a twist?” She arched an eyebrow.

 

“Oh, don’t start.” Stiles bit out and when her gaze just hardened, he sighed. “Besides, it’s briefs, not boxers.” He grinned, trying to throw her off scent.

 

“You can try, Stiles, and you’re in luck since class is starting. But you _will_ tell me.” She warned out just as the bell rung it’s annoying tune.

 

Stiles slouched down in his chair, avoiding eye contact with anyone and just stared at the chalkboard in front of him. This class couldn’t end soon enough.

 

Soon enough, was not soon enough though.

 

The fourty-seven minutes stuck in the class felt like a lifetime, one he didn’t want to participate in. About halfway through, he had completely zoned out and he’d started focusing on the thin white scars on his wrist. A part of him was saying his sleeve shouldn’t be rolled up and that someone would notice, but a part of him didn’t care. It wasn’t that he didn’t think of harming himself. He always did. It was a constant, nagging reminder in the back of his mind saying he needed to hurt himself. He learned to accept that he’d always live with that.

 

A side effect of self harm that only those who dare to partake in it know the true horror of the addiction. Telling someone not to cut is like telling a druggie to put the needle down or an alcoholic to put the beer back in the fridge.

 

It’s just gotten easier for him, Stiles internally concluded, to resist those urges.

 

He had them a lot on the way to Hawaii, and even in the “Aloha” happy state. It’s just gotten easier to tuck the thoughts away and focus on better, happier things.

 

“Stiles,” Lydia grabbed his hand, and Stiles blinked back into reality. Everyone, even the teacher, was gone from the classroom. Everyone but Lydia and him. “What is wrong?” Her eyes were filled with concern, and when they darted down to his wrist, his eyes followed.

 

He nearly jumped a few feet at the sight. His fingernails had scratched away the top layer of his skin, leaving it red and raw, and slightly bloody.

 

“We’re skipping. Your mental health is more important than school.” Lydia demanded. “Get your stuff and let’s go. Also, hand me your keys. I’m driving.” He did everything without complaint. There was no way he’d win any argument. Begrudgingly, he handed over the keys and followed her.

 

The ten minute drive to her house was in silence. She didn’t even put on the radio, which is how Stiles knew he was in trouble with her. As soon as she parked, Lydia hopped out of the car, and went right up to her front door, unlocking it. Quietly, Stiles followed. Unsure as to what else to do, he shoved his hands in his pockets and went with her as she led him to the kitchen. Lydia motioned for him to sit down, and he listened. Then, it was silent, her just glaring at him and him trying to avoid eye contact.

 

“Something happened.” Lydia stared him down, a hard glare causing her eyebrows to furrow. Stiles opened his mouth to argue back, but he let out a sigh and his shoulders dropped.

 

“Yeah.” He said softly, staring at the tea in front of him.

 

“What?” Suddenly Lydia was next to him, and she sat down on the adjacent stool. “This looks like it’s eating you up and from the way Isaac was today? It looks like it’s eating up Derek too.” Stiles opened his mouth to oppose. “Don’t you dare lie to me Stilinski. I’m still not given enough credit for my intelligence.”

 

“Maybe you are psychic.” He muttered under his breath before leaning forward on his elbows and rubbing his eyes with his fists. There was a moment of silence and Lydia’s hand settled on his shoulder, her way of saying that whatever it was, she’d help out. Consciously, he leaned into her touch. “Derek and I—” Stiles struggled to say it so he lifted his head up and motioned with her hands at her.

 

She slapped him.

 

On the shoulder.

 

“What the hell?” He exclaimed, jumping in his seat.

 

“What did you say?” She demanded.

 

“Why am I suddenly the bad guy?”

 

“Since Derek is currently moping and you’re beating yourself up which means that you did, or said, something that dug you in a hole. What did you _say_?” The glare on her face was back, and it was fierce. For a second, he wondered when she and Derek got so close but then remembered that she had helped him out during the summer. Sighing, he played with the spoon in his tea.

 

“I told him I was confused.” Stiles admitted after a while, and got another slap on the shoulder.

 

“What else?”

 

“That—it shouldn’t have happened?” He spoke quietly, like a child getting disciplined for breaking an expensive vase. This time, she didn’t slap him. No, she punched him, not holding back any strength. “Stop doing that!” He brought a hand up to rub his shoulder.

 

“I should punch you again! Maybe in the face this time.” Lydia raised her voice. “You two morons...you both infuriate me so goddamn much! And you’re lucky it was your shoulder, not your face. Now get off your ass and get over there and talk to him.”

 

“I don’t want to see him.” Stiles stood up.

 

“You’re sure as hell not staying moping here.” Lydia glared. “You’re eighteen, yet you’re acting like you’re five. You love him, and don’t you deny it because I’ve seen it. _So get off your ass, and get over there_.” Stiles put his hands up in surrender, but he knew she was right. The queasy feeling in his stomach never went away though as he walked out of the house, hearing her sigh of indignation behind him.

* * *

  


Needless to say, he didn’t head over to Derek’s. Instead, he ended up near the veterinary clinic, watching as Deaton got out of his car with a bag of groceries in one hand. He started walking over when the vet/druid dropped his keys trying to unlock the clinic’s door.

 

“Thank you, Stiles.” Deaton said, rebalancing the groceries. “I was beginning to wonder why you were standing over there. We can talk inside.” Stiles wanted to roll his eyes. Of course the vet knew he had been watching.

 

“So I read that book, about Sparks, like you told me too. It’s really cool and everything, and I’m going to have to save most of it in the grimoire I’m making, but I still don’t fully understand why you had me to read it.” Stiles watched Deaton carefully, and noticed a split second of happiness on Deaton’s face.

 

“Now that we confirmed that you are, indeed, a spark, we can begin lessons. Lucky for you, my next appointment doesn’t start for another hour and a half, so we shall begin immediately.” Deaton said, motioning for Stiles to follow him into the back room, the same room that he almost had to saw off Derek’s arm and the Nogitsune stabbed and twisted a sword into Scott’s stomach.

 

“I’m sorry, how did we confirm I was a spark?” Stiles’s mind clearly wasn’t connecting something here.

 

“The book.” Deaton simply put, as if it explained everything. When Stiles’s baffled expression, Deaton began talking. “The book wasn’t in English, but Ancient Druid writing. However, with your magic, it was able to change it to your natural tongue in your mind, allowing you to read it. Otherwise, it would’ve been gibberish to you.”  


“So if my natural tongue was French, it’d translate it to French?” Stiles asked, and Deaton nodded. “Sweet. What about sign language?” There was no reply as Deaton went to the other side of the room, leaving Stiles in the doorway.

 

“Before we begin, I’d like to see that scratch of yours. I need to make sure it’s healing up alright.” Deaton set down the brown grocery bag on a counter.

 

“No need too.” Stiles grinned at Deaton’s confused face.  “It’s all gone. I went to Derek’s, he took away the pain and in the morning, it was gone.”

 

“Hmm.” Deaton hummed, looking like he was considering a few options. “Did you pass out at all by any chance?”

 

“Yeah, how’d you know?” He suddenly became guarded and unsure.

 

“I have a theory.” The vet tapped his fingers against his chin before turning around. Next thing Stiles knew, was a scalpel being thrown at him at an abnormal speed. He put up an arm to protect him and the scalpel lodged itself in his forearm.

 

“What the _hell?_ ” Stiles pulled it out, and examined it. “Where’s the band aids?”

 

“Just watch.” Deaton stared at Stiles’s forearm with a thoughtful look. Cautiously, Stiles did as he said. After a second, his eyes widened.  “The fuck?”

 

“Language.” Stiles ignored Deaton’s comment. He was entranced by the way his skin was pulling itself back together before the cut was no longer there, just the small amount of blood drying on his arm. “My theory would be proved correct then.”

 

“What theory?”

 

“That you can heal yourself. That’s probably why you passed out. Your body was healing and then Derek was draining away your pain. With no pain, your body didn’t know what it needed to heal, and began freaking out, and therefore, you passed out. In a way though, it caused you to heal faster. Very intriguing…”

 

“Wait—you’re saying that I healed so fast because Derek was taking my pain and because I’m a spark?” Stiles stared incredulously at Deaton.

 

“Stiles,” Deaton sounded a little impatient, “you believed that you’ve been reading ancient Druid writing, but you’re having difficulties grasping this concept? Yes. It explains why you passed out too. Your body was healing too quick and from a result, couldn’t expend any extra energy in keeping you awake.”

 

“You didn’t think of telling me this before?”

 

“I didn’t know before.” Deaton snapped out before changing back to his calm mood. “I apologise. I forget that you’re new to this. All that I know about Sparks is in that grimoire I gave you. Those notes are compiled from years of research and purposely searching out creatures to gain information about them.”

“I’m sorry too.” Stiles said.

 

“Let’s get on with today’s lesson, shall we?” The druid motioned for him to sit down, and Stiles complied. “We’re going to work on focusing on the balance of light and dark on a small scale. The whole point of the emissary is to give advice, while also balancing nature. Now do as I do.”

* * *

  


“Hey Dad, I’m home!” Stiles loudly called out the second he opened the door from the garage to the kitchen. “I mean, of course it’s me. Unless you’re expecting someone else. In that case, it’s not them. It’s me, your only son.”

 

“Hey son, it’s your dad. Come into the living room?” Something was off in his father’s voice. Setting his stuff down, Stiles hurried to the room. A huge feeling of relief came over him when he saw his dad just standing there.

 

“What’s wrong?” Stiles questioned, looking at his father’s serious expression. Wordlessly, his father held out a cream coloured envelope.

 

“This is for you.”


	21. Chapter 21

“I’ll be here when you get home.” His father handed him an envelope. Stiles looked confused, and glanced down at the envelope before audibly gasping in shock and looking back up. “I meant to give it to you when you turned eighteen.” His father admitted. “But with everything that was happening, I just wanted you to be in a good place before I handed it to you.” He watched as his dad shifted from one foot to another. “I don’t know what’s in it. She wouldn’t let me look, and I have one too that I haven’t opened yet. But she wrote one for all the major points in your life. But I’m not to give them to you until then. Now get kid. Go read.” Stiles nodded and walked out the door without saying anything.

 

Starting up his jeep, he placed the letter on the passenger seat and pulled out of the driveway. He drove for a couple of minutes before he crossed the town line, then took a left and did somewhat of a U-turn and headed up the mountain. In all technicality, the mountain was town property, but to get up to the top, one would have to go over the town line. It was quite confusing the first few times he went to the top, the first being with his mom.

 

Pulling onto the gravel road that led to a campsite, Stiles was pleased at the lack of cars. He parked in a spot crooked, and got out, grabbing the letter of the seat beside him. The chilly breeze hit him in the face, causing Stiles to wrap himself in his thin jacket further. In front of him, the cliff overlooking Beacon Hills, was a huge boulder and smaller rocks surrounding it. Similar to when he was a child, he climbed up the rocks and sat on top of the boulder and just like when he was a child, the boulder was almost completely flat on top. 

 

Taking the envelope and holding it up to the light, Stiles stared at his mother’s cursive “On His 18th Birthday” writing. With shaky hands and with care, he opened the envelope and pulled out the folded up paper inside.

 

Unfolding the letter, a few tears escaped and cascaded down his face when he saw his mother’s handwriting. But he brushed them away, clearing up his vision, and began to read.

 

_My Dear, Dear Genim,_

_ I had hoped it wouldn't have come down to this, but it must be true. Otherwise, I’d be able to say all this to you in person. I’m sorry, Genim. I really am. No one should have to grow up without a parent. _

_ The diagnosis was given to me yesterday, and the doc’s say I only have a few years left. At the very least, ten months. But I swear I’ll hold on as long as I can… I’ll prove them wrong, I swear. I won’t give up Genim. Promise. I haven’t even told your father yet.  _

 

Stiles bit back a noise in the back of his throat. He remembered fragments of that day. His father had sent him out to the yard to play as soon as he had gotten home from school and his mother had gone into her private writing room, something she only did when she was upset or was working on something extremely serious. And when she had come back out, she held envelopes in her hand and had given them to her father at the kitchen window. He was so curious about what the letters were, and why her eyes were red, but she just kept telling him that he’d find out another day.

 

_ Yet, like I said before, if you’re reading this, I’m not there to take you to school anymore, to tease you about your future boyfriends or girlfriends. To straighten out your tie for prom or watch you marry the love of your life. But I know whoever you choose, I love you. I love you so much that it pains me twice as much to write this. I just hope you’re happy. Be happy, my Genim. _

_ You’re five years old right now. So young, and so innocent. You laugh at anything that moves and you’re just so full of joy and love. Even old crotchety Mrs. Betty smiles when she sees you. But that may just be because you gave her a white daisy that one time. I hope that never goes away. In fact, I hope it stays with you all your life and you remember being that carefree. _

 

A rush of guiltiness punctured through his ribs, making it hard for him to breathe. He’s no longer innocent and carefree, not really. He maybe got close to being carefree in Hawaii but the innocence he had, had been lost a long time ago.

 

_ I’m trying to picture you at eighteen. Will your hair become curly like mine? Or be on the straight side like your fathers? You already have my eyes, but I imagine them to have more gold in them when you’re older, and reflect the sunlight and peace in the world. I hope you’re taller than your dad, or equally as tall. That’ll teach him to tease me about my height. _

 

Stiles couldn’t believe he had forgotten about his father teasing her. He recalled one day waking up and walking into the kitchen to see his mom on her tip-toes reaching for the Nesquik that his father had put on the top shelf, all the meanwhile his father was laughing in his seat. 

 

_ Now onto favourite memories of you…. _

_ Do you remember jumping off the bed yelling out that you were Batman? I laughed for hours on that and all the time, your father was telling me to stop.. You cried for a few minutes but joined in with my laughter. I don’t think I’ve ever seen your father so frustrated. _

_ Do you remember getting into your dad’s handcuffs? He had left them out on the counter after pulling a third shift, and you had managed to climb on top of a chair and then the counter. You had one of the cuffs on your neck and the other just dangling when I caught you. You had proudly exclaimed that you had found your new favourite necklace, despite it being uncomfortable.  _

_ Do you remember making those midnight runs to the comic book store?  _

_ Do you remember making breakfast with me for your dad on Sunday’s? Or being so concentrated on making his sandwich for his lunch at work? _

_ Do you remember coming into work with me one day at the music store? You knocked over three guitars when you found out they made sounds. I thought for sure Mr. Stevens was going to yell at you and your eyes were as wide as a dinner plate when he said your name. But instead, he just sat you down on a nearby bench and gave you a ukelele. Every guitar was way too big for you. And he sat there with you for an hour or two, teaching you. You prefered just strumming all the strings like you were a rock star. But you were very attentive and were able to play ‘Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star’ at the end of my shift. _

_ Do you remember in the car, whenever Bohemian Rhapsody came on the radio, that we would sing it at the top of our lungs? Sometimes with the window down. I don’t think your father has ever laughed so hard when he realized that it was us that passed him on the street. _

_ Do you remember building pillow forts with your dad? I’d come home from work and I’d find you both snuggled up underneath this massive fort that took up most of the living room. I’m sure if you look, there’s a photo album full of pictures I took of you two.. You also insisted on all your stuffed animals, including that wolf I had given you, be present in the fort. I remember whenever your dad had woken up, he’d shake his head and say that you had too many animals to carry.. But there’d be that smile on his face that told me he’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.. _

_ Do you remember (last one, I promise) pretending to be Godzilla and running into my garden when I was planting some flowers, and you stomped all over my daffodils? I got so angry at your father for him letting you watch that movie. And then I heard the both of you giggling.. I got the hose and sprayed you both down with water, and made you go out to buy new flowers. Though, in the end, I found it more amusing than anything else. Besides, flowers can grow back. _

_ Now, you’re probably still wondering why I said ‘boyfriends or girlfriends’ at the top. Honey, it’s not that hard to tell that you see no distinct difference between loving one gender or another and that, to me, is wonderful. You’re always going on about the ‘hot boy’ down the road, on Elmsford Street. I can’t recall his name right now though. And that girl in your class, with the strawberry-blonde hair. Lydia, right? I bet she’s going to look killer when she’s older. She’s equally as smart and motivated as you are.  _

 

Stiles tried really hard to remember Elmsford Street and the boy that lived on it, but to no avail. And while, originally, he was shocked that his mother somehow knew when he was five years old that he was bisexual, it didn’t fully surprise him. 

 

_ I’m sorry if I’ve ruined the surprise. Though, I truly hope you’ve realised it by now. I’m trying to picture the look on your face when you’re reading this. _

_ I hope you’re still friends with Scott. Mrs. McCall is a dear friend of mine, and after what her husband did, I feel terrible for getting sick. It’s funny because we had met before I had married your father and before she had met Rafael. We went to the same concert in Melbourne, Australia in college. (Yes, I’ve been to Australia.) We were the only two there from California, surprisingly, so we spent the entire night hanging out and keeping each other safe. So you can imagine my surprise when we met seven years after the fact.  _

_ Also, bad things happen Genim. Whether it’s as simple as a failed test, or something catastrophic like a friend dying. Bad things happen, but they don’t define us unless we let them. So don’t let it define you.  Let it make you stronger, and it’s okay to break down at times, but don’t let it break you in. You can do this. I believe in you. _

_ Another thing, Genim, take care of your father. He’s a strong man, there’s no question in that. But sometimes he lets his emotions consume him rather than letting them out and expressing them. I fear what hole of darkness may eat him up when I pass away. I fear for both of you. I need for you to take care of him. Make sure he rests. Make sure he doesn’t eat too much of the fatty crap. Thank God you’ve inherited my love for healthy food, even though I know you’d sneak some super-high-in-sugar candy or mountain dew behind my back. Or those curly fries. _

_ One last thing. Life is hard. Love is tough. Be resilient. If you love someone, tell them. Don’t wait for weeks or months, or maybe even years, to pass. Let them know. Take that chance. Life is way too short to regret things. I probably sound so cliche right now, but it’s so true. If your father had waited another month, I probably would’ve forced myself to move on.   _

_ Genim, I love you. _

_ I love you. _

_ I love you.  _

 

_ Most ardently,  _

_ Mama Bear Stilinski _

_ Mama Bear Stilinski _

 

Stiles stared at the letter, his hands shaking. His eyes skimmed over the paper again, taking in all the creases where it was folded over, the tear stains whenever there was a mention of her no longer being there. Or the little ink dots when too much ink gathered in one area for too long a time. It felt surreal. As carefully as he could, he folded the letter back up and tucked it back into the envelope, before letting the tears roll down his cheeks. She had known for two years that she was going to die, and she must’ve been in so much pain, but she held on for him. And she knew he wouldn’t fully be aware of it until he was eighteen. She had so much faith in him and love for him, and that erased all the bad days she had with the dementia. 

 

Bringing his legs to his chest, Stiles put his face against his knees and started sobbing. All the memories of her towards the end, of her screaming that he was after her, that he was going to kill her and he needed to be taken away, washed away, and he started remembering who she was beforehand. She was still forgetful about where she left her car keys but he remembered all the things she told him. 

 

He remembered learning the ukulele, while she worked and helped someone out with a clarinet issue. He remembered pretending he was Batman, but he was almost positive he had done it more than once. In fact he was sure, as one time ended with him getting stitches in his chin from hitting a toy on the ground. He remembered making the forts with his dad. It would take them hours to get the sheets perfect, and then they would get out the christmas lights and surround the outside of the blankets with them. The floor would be covered in cushions and pillows, and even more blankets. Looking back, Stiles was surprised they had so many. 

 

Stiles didn’t know how long he sat there on the rock, crying. His mother, even from her grave, was lending him help and advice and telling him to be good.

 

“Ma…” Stiles cried out, knowing no one would hear him. “Why’d you have to go?” He asked, and then he asked again, before lifting his head up and screaming out the words. No one would hear them besides him, but it felt good to get off his chest. It hurt. The dull pain of thinking of her had flowered and he couldn’t ignore it right now. Before there was always that ache in his chest that he knew would always be there whenever something reminded him of her or whenever she was mentioned. 

 

And he’s still learning things about her. Stiles let out a cough, a headache was starting to form. As soon as he gets home, he’s going to search for those photo albums that had been tucked away shortly after her death. Maybe he’ll find photos of Australia, or any other place she’s been to. Stiles wondered out loud if she ever hugged a koala bear. 

 

“I’ll start a garden with daffodils Ma…” Stiles mumbled. “To make  up for the ones I crushed.” It sounded stupid to him, but at the same time, it made sense to start a garden. “I’ll add some of those while lilies your mom bought you all the time, and lavender. It’ll be fun and you’ll probably laugh at my failed attempts whilst working on it.” 

 

After talking, he fell silent, listening to the breeze and quiet buzz of the town below him. He watched as the sun fell below the horizon and then watched as lights in house’s were beginning to turn off. Stiles didn’t care how long he had been out there, only that he felt closer to his mother than he had felt in years. A piece of the pain of losing her had disappeared with the letter.

 

He heard the crunch of gravel behind him, but he didn’t turn around. Whoever it was could leave and didn’t need to bother him. By now, the tears had dried on Stiles’s face, making his cheeks slightly itchy and his eyes felt sore. And then a hand fell on his left shoulder. Still, Stiles made no move to glance at who it was, because at this point he had a feeling that he knew exactly was beside of him. The hand tightened in a manner to be reassuring, and didn’t leave.

 

“Whenever you’re ready.” The gruff voice spoke out, and Stiles nodded, still not speaking. Taking one last look at the view, Stiles finally pulled away from the memories he’d been captured by. He turned and stared at Derek. There was a look of shared sorrow and understanding, and a mix of worry and concern. Stiles almost laughed at the fact he could tell all that just from Derek’s eyebrows. Yet, Derek looked more open tonight for some reason, and Stiles refrained. Instead, he let himself be taken off the rock and walked to the Camaro. “We’ll come back for your jeep later.” 

 

Stiles said nothing and sat in the passenger seat, putting on his seatbelt before leaning against the now-closed door. After a few moments of silence, Derek hopped into his car and the engine purred to life. 

 

“Do you want my jacket? It’s probably more comfortable than the plastic.” Derek asked, and Stiles once again, nodded. For a second, there was a rustling noise and then Derek held out the classic leather jacket. “If you turn it inside out, it’s softer.” Stiles took it, and folded it into a makeshift pillow, before placing it between his head and the window.

 

“Thank you.” Stiles’s voice was hoarse, but he managed to say the words as he closed his eyes.

 

“It’s no problem.” Derek softly said, and Stiles felt the car begin to reverse, only to pause, and then proceed to pull forward.

 

“I love you.” Stiles couldn’t stop himself from saying it. “My ma told me…wrote me…that if I love someone, I should tell them. I love you, Derek.” He didn’t hear Derek’s reply, as he let the exhaustion his body was aching of let him drift to sleep. 


End file.
